Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“What is Sumeru City like?”

Kaveh is sitting in a vibrant grassy field, the sun shining down and adhigama trees surrounding him in every direction. Above him, the sky is clear—puffy, white clouds lazily passing by.

He is the only one here.

That doesn’t seem right.

Shouldn’t there be a little girl sitting in front of him? A girl with white hair tipped green and the brightest green eyes he’s ever seen?

Where has she gone?

“I’ll tell you after you’ve seen it for yourself,” he says aloud—to no one in particular.

The scene shifts.

The sun is barely peeking through the curtains when Kaveh wakes.

He blinks, stares up at the wooden ceiling, then haphazardly throws his covers aside. His hands grab for the pen and his leather-bound notebook on the bedside table. He flips to the end, scribbling down a quick summary of his dream.

Kaveh frowns.

That makes it two months since Lesser Lord Kusanali first appeared in his dreams, and two weeks since Lesser Lord Kusanali last appeared.

Nahida, he can almost hear the girl correcting with a slight pout.

Kaveh groans and flops back in bed, eyes burning holes into the grain of his worn ceiling and the ugly stain from that awful rainstorm months back. Outside, Port Ormos is waking for the day—the sounds of people setting up shop filtering through his open window.

He furrows his brows.

“Where did you go, Nahida?” he asks into the open air.

The air, predictably, holds no answers.

With a frustrated huff, Kaveh runs a hand through his hair and pushes himself out of bed. The world waits for no one after all, and he has a meeting with a client in Sumeru City in two hours.

He grabs his Akasha Terminal off his desk and pauses, holding it up to the light pouring in from the window.

If he can just reach her Akasha Terminal…

He sighs, clipping his Terminal to his ear and cinching his vision to his belt before closing the door to his house.

He’s in Puspa Cafe, taking a break after his last meeting for the day when he hears the news.

“Did you hear? The Grand Scribe hasn’t been to work for almost a week now.”

Kaveh glances to the side, spotting two Akademiya students on the table next to him, their heads close together. One glance up at their badges tells Kaveh they’re Haravatat and Kshahrewar students.

Kaveh holds his coffee closer to him, lips pressed together.

“The Grand Scribe? Are you sure he’s not just hiding? Isn’t he never where he’s supposed to be anyway?” the Haravatat student asks

“I don’t think so. I mean, he hasn’t clocked in for work in days. Do you think something happened to him?”

“Maybe he got sick? Besides, don’t you have an essay on ancient Deshretian mechanisms due tomorrow? Shouldn’t you be focusing on that rather than high-ranking Akademiya personnel?”

The Kshahrewar student blinks and curses.

“Oh my gods, you’re right! Archons, are you done? Let’s head back to the Akademiya. I have an essay to write!”

The Haravatat student rolls her eyes in exasperation. And yet, Kaveh stares at the small smile that twists on her face while the Kshahrewar student starts frantically packing up. The student grabs her wrist and pulls her out of the table. Kaveh watches them leave the cafe.

That scene felt a little too familiar.

He takes a sip of his coffee and frowns.

“What’s this about Al-Haitham not coming to work?” he mutters. “Wasn’t he always a stickler for it?”

At least, that’s what Kaveh remembers of him during their Akademiya days when they were together. He hasn’t talked to Al-Haitham since then. Perhaps the impossible happened and he’s changed.

Kaveh closes his eyes, groans, and feeds into his curiosity.

A quick cursory check through the Akasha tells him that yes, the Grand Scribe had been missing for four days now. That’s odd. Kaveh doesn’t remember Al-Haitham being of weak constitution. It usually took him a day or two before he deemed himself healthy enough. And if nothing else, Al-Haitham was not one to take too many sick days and let his work pile up.

Or, that’s how he was like back then.

Kaveh’s frown deepens.

Come to think of it, hadn’t Cyno disappeared a little more than a week ago as well?

“Mehrak?” he calls out. The little suitcase blinks to life, hovering by Kaveh’s side. Kaveh smiles. “Can you give me Tighnari’s most recent letter?”

Mehrak gives a few chirpy beeps before it drops a folded piece of paper on the table.

“Thank you, dear.”

Kaveh opens up the letter. He checks the date and narrows his eyes.

The last time Nahida appeared in his dreams had been the day before Cyno had gone AWOL, if Tighnari’s letter was to be believed. Which makes Al-Haitham’s disappearance set around a week after Cyno’s.

Were the three disappearances related?

But he’s pretty certain Cyno doesn’t know Al-Haitham beyond both of them being high-ranking Akademiya personnel. Al-Haitham—in his glorified secretarial job—shouldn’t have any reason to associate with the General Mahamatra.

Still…

Kaveh purses his lips and scans the contents of Tighnari’s letter.

He remembers this letter. Tighnari had told him how his mentor recently asked for his assistance with a project in the Akademiya. But, his dislike for Sumeru City aside, the letter had seemed off—unlike his mentor. He’d rejected the offer and began keeping an eye out for any news about the Akademiya from wandering scholars studying in Avidya Forest.

Then, right before Cyno left his post, he had warned Tighnari against getting involved with anything related to the Akademiya—a warning Tighnari passed on to Kaveh.

Back then, it felt a little unnecessary. It wasn’t like Kaveh was gonna get any proposals from the Akademiya. If anything, he’s probably on their watchlist for being such an avid defender of the arts in this political climate.

But with Al-Haitham of all people missing from work…

Kaveh groans and runs a hand roughly through his hair.

“None of my business,” he mutters, grabbing his things and packing up. “What that man does is none of my business.”

They haven’t talked in close to a decade. Who knows what he’s like now or what he’s up to at this point? Certainly not Kaveh. And he doesn’t care to know—hasn’t cared to know for years.

He doesn’t care. Really, he doesn’t.

It’s why he leaves Puspa Cafe with Al-Haitham pushed as far from his mind as possible.

Ten years ago, Greater Lord Rukkhadevata died.

The doctors claimed it was a peaceful death. She had died in her sleep. A sickness, they said, that had ravaged through her with deadly efficiency. It must have been painful, they said, but at least the pain had been quick.

All of Sumeru mourned her death.

Kaveh remembers being in class when the Akasha System—barely a year old then—had spread the news of the Greater Lord’s death. A hush had fallen over the lecture hall as everyone’s Akasha Terminals projected the words:

Greater Lord Rukkhadevata passed away peacefully in her sleep last night.

Classes were canceled for the rest of the week. All of Sumeru stood still. Kaveh remembers how the eerie silence covered every part of the nation—in the halls of the Akademiya, on the streets of Sumeru City, even down in the bazaars of Port Ormos. It was as if Greater Lord Rukkhadevata’s death had put a spell on every part of Sumeru, forcing it to be held in a state of grieving limbo.

It was only a cruel coincidence, then, that the day after Greater Lord Rukkhadevata’s death was Lesser Lord Kusanali’s birthday.

That year, the Sabzeruz Festival was canceled. Had Sumeru celebrated it, it would have been Lesser Lord Kusanali’s eighth birthday. The day after, another notice had been passed through the Akasha System:

Lesser Lord Kusanali—Greater Lord Rukkhadevata’s sister and heir to the throne—turned eight yesterday.

Despite her status as a royal and a carrier of the Dendro Archon’s blood, Lesser Lord Kusanali has been deemed too young to rule Sumeru. As such, she has been sent to the Sanctuary of Surasthana, where she will stay until she is old enough to rule.

Until then, Grand Sage Azar and the Sages of the Akademiya will handle all responsibilities relating to the role of the Ruler of Sumeru.

Unfortunately, once the Sages took over, Sumeru started to change.

Information from the Akasha about certain topics became restricted from individuals depending on who they were and where they stood in society. Information about Lesser Lord Kusanali in particular became especially sparse as time went on.

The Sabzeruz Festival never regained its original fervor. Bits and pieces of its traditions became illegal. The mere name of the young heir to the throne gradually became taboo.

And then, the anti-art and anti-performance laws were passed. Zubayr Theater saw fewer and fewer funds over the years. Parts of the theater began showing its age. Bit by bit, the Akademiya began devaluing art of any form in every way—from within its curriculum to within Sumerian society as a whole.

Why do the arts matter when they bring nothing worthwhile—no truth, no progress, no meaning? Why does Lesser Lord Kusanali matter when she hasn’t been seen for five, six, ten years?

Every year, the Sages seemed to ask these questions to the people of Sumeru.

And with each year that passes by under their rule, their answer becomes clearer and clearer.

They don’t.

“You must be aware that public performances without proper permission are prohibited under Akademiya Law, correct?”

“Yes, but—”

“Then what is all this?”

Kaveh glances up. Around Zubayr Theater, pots of blooming padisarahs surround the main stage. Banners hang from either side of the theater, pinned to the hanging lanterns and draped across the lampposts.

“They’re leftover decorations from the Sabzeruz Festival, sir,” a red-haired girl says, hands scrunching up her skirts. “We haven’t had the time to take them down yet.”

“It’s been a week,” the matra soldier argues.

The Sabzeruz festival? Yes, he supposes it is around that time; he’d completely forgotten. Nahida must have turned eighteen then, making her old enough to rule.

And yet, there has been no news about Lesser Lord Kusanali at all.

“Oh dear. Not poor Nilou again.”

Kaveh flinches and turns back. The older woman in front of the fruit stand has her eyes trained on the dancer and the matra as well, a worried look on her face.

Right, he’s here to buy fruit.

“Again?” Kaveh asks, picking up a zaytun peach on display and examining it.

“Ah, were you not here during the Sabzeruz Festival, dear?” the woman asks.

“I wasn’t.”

She sighs. “Probably for the better. There wasn’t much of a festival, after all.”

“What do you mean?”

“The Grand Sage came just as Nilou was about to perform the Dance of Sabzeruz and canceled the whole festival.”

Kaveh stops.

“What?!”

The woman nods.

“But it’s Lesser Lord Kusanali’s birthday celebration,” Kaveh presses. “How could they cancel that?”

“I don’t know, child. They just did.” The woman’s eyes flicker to the dancer—Nilou. “It’s such a shame. So many people were looking forward to watching Nilou perform. But if the Sages continue canceling performances left and right, Zubayr Theater may never see a performance again.”

Kaveh sucks in a breath. He glances back.

First, Nahida stopped appearing in his dreams. Then, Cyno left his post. Then, the Sabzeruz Festival was canceled by the Akademiya on the year Lesser Lord Kusanali would become old enough to rule. And now, Al-Haitham—of all people—hasn’t been to work.

It doesn’t take a genius to see the Sages are trying to prevent Kusanali from reclaiming her birthright. It makes sense for Cyno to be against such corruption, but Al-Haitham too?

And to show such blatant disrespect for Nahida on her birthday—

Kaveh sets the peach back on the display.

“Excuse me for a moment,” he says and strides towards the two people on the stage.

“Please, sir! I wasn’t trying to hold any public performances,” Nilou protests. “I was only practicing.”

“For what performance?” the matra asks.

“F-for… for…”

“Zubayr Theater isn’t scheduled to hold any public performances in the near future, Miss Nilou.”

“Excuse me.” Kaveh puts on his best customer-service smile and steps right next to Nilou. “Is everything alright?”

The matra frowns. Nilou’s eyes widen.

“Everything is fine. There’s no need to worry,” the matra says. He pauses, then adds, “Master Kaveh.”

Kaveh’s smile twitches. He really hated the identification part of the Akasha.

“Really? You were causing such a disturbance, I couldn’t focus on which fruits I wanted to buy from the nice lady over there,” Kaveh says, gesturing to the fruit stand right next to Zubayr Theater. “And, I really can’t understand why Miss Nilou here is getting scolded.”

“Public performances without permission are prohibited, as you know, Master Kaveh.”

“But Miss Nilou said she was only practicing. Surely, taking part in one’s hobby isn’t grounds for an arrest?”

“Practicing in a public area on stage?” the matra asks with a raised brow. “In that attire?”

“Maybe she was holding a dress rehearsal, or she wanted to practice in the same atmosphere as her performance,” Kaveh responds, crossing his arms. “There are plenty of reasons why, and she’s well within her rights to. It is a public area.”

“If she were to start practicing, it would be grounds for a public disturbance—”

“Your argument with Miss Nilou has been more of a public disturbance than her dancing could have ever been,” Kaveh interrupts, raising a brow. “Children dance in the streets every day. Are you going to arrest them too for enjoying a simple pleasure?”

The matra soldier presses his lips together.

“I know you mean well, Master Kaveh,” he starts, tone forcefully light. “But you should take care to mind your own business.” The matra eyes him, a warning in his voice when he says, “You must know you are on a watchlist for acts like these in defense of the arts.”

Kaveh snorts.

“I hope they continue watching, then,” he says.

The matra soldier stares, sends one last look of warning to Nilou, then stalks off the stage.

“Um… Master Kaveh?” Kaveh feels a hand gently tug on his sleeve and turns to face the red-haired dancer.

“Yes?”

“Master Kaveh, this really was a…” Nilou glances around, before whispering, “planned public performance. I was hoping to honor Lesser Lord Kusanali with the Dance of Sabzeruz today, even if it couldn’t be on her birthday. You should just turn me in. I don’t want you to get in trouble for my sake.”

Kaveh smiles and raises a brow.

“You’re Miss Nilou, correct?” Nilou nods. “Then, Miss Nilou, as far as I can tell, this wasn’t a public performance. This was a practice session, and Zubayr Theater has simply been too understaffed to take down the decorations from last week.”

Nilou’s eyes widen. A huge smile breaks across her face, eyes glittering under the lowlight of the theater.

“Yes, right. Of course!” Nilou nods. “Thank you so much for helping me, Master Kaveh. Is there anything I can do to repay your kindness?”

“No need,” Kaveh says, smiling. “I’m only helping out a fellow artist.”

“But you must at least let me buy you something. You risked your safety for me.” Nilou looks around and finds the fruit stall Kaveh had pointed out earlier. She turns back, eyes steeled. “Let me buy your groceries for you. You said you were looking at the fruits right?”

“Ah, no. There’s really no need—”

His words are yanked out of him once Nilou grabs his hand and pulls him into the Grand Bazaar.

Nilou ends up buying his groceries, much to his displeasure.

As such and out of respect for the dancer, he stays in Zubayr Theater for her Dance of Sabzeruz—watching her weave hydro into each twirl of her hands and swish of her skirts. Her movements are fluid like her vision, seamlessly moving through each motion while she entranced her audience in her dance.

She is mesmerizing—Kaveh decides.

And when everything is done, he claps for her, thanks her for the show, and takes the last ferry back to Port Ormos, arriving home in the late hours of the evening. One carelessly cobbled together dinner later, Kaveh is back in his room, his Akasha Terminal in hand and his tools organized across his table.

He clicks on the pyro lamp and sits down, biting hard on the inside of his cheek.

“Mehrak,” he murmurs, carefully prying open the terminal from the back. “Pull up the model of the Terminal please.”

Mehrak beeps once. The schematics of the inside of the Akasha glow a soft green as Mehrak projects the model. Kaveh glances at it, flicking his hands to rotate the model.

“Mehrak. Could I have my notes on the Akasha?”

Two beeps. Mehrak drops a small notebook by his hand. Kaveh flips through pages and pages of his drawings of the inside of the Akasha, brows furrowed.

“Come on,” he mutters. “You’re only illegally modifying Greater Lord Rukkhadevata’s greatest invention to find her sister.” Kaveh pauses. His slightly manic laugh echoes in the empty air. “Right.”

He glances at his Akasha, exhales, and grabs his tools.

After the second Nahida-less night, Kaveh had begun to worry something had happened to the girl. Maybe Azar found out she was visiting people through her dreams, or she became dangerously ill and didn’t have the strength to visit others’ dreams, or the Sanctuary of Surasthana was invaded and she’d been kidnapped by a group of hostile eremites.

Or, maybe she got tired of talking to him.

Whatever the case, after the third night came and went without her, Kaveh couldn’t, in good conscience, do nothing.

Kaveh’s eyes flick between his Akasha, his model, and his notes. His vision gently glows. Carefully, he feeds the Terminal his dendro energy, watching the flow of energy between the wires as he slowly separates them. The Akasha Terminal’s distinct light green pattern flickers to life.

In the middle of the Akasha lies a small, glowing, disk-shaped transmitter. Kaveh watches it shift from green to white to light pink and back again. Carefully, Kaveh feeds it more dendro energy.

Here is the problem: during the time of the Archons, a cataclysmic war turned Sumeru’s desert into a sea, forever changing its landscape into a coastal nation surrounded by archipelagos.

When Greater Lord Rukkhadevata was still alive, she commissioned the building of the Sanctuary of Surasthana on one of the islands a few miles off the coast of Port Ormos. It was supposed to be a vacation home for her and her sister.

Of course, she couldn’t have predicted this happening.

Kaveh huffs, immediately flipping through his notebook.

Were Nahida on land and not miles off the coast of Port Ormos, it would’ve been easy for Kaveh to find her Akasha Terminal. But the dendro energy connecting the system didn’t reach across the ocean—not with how the Akasha System was developed all those years ago. Thus, he needed energy that could travel across the sea but still mimic the properties of dendro enough that the Akasha’s mechanics would accept the foreign energy.

He slips his hand into his pocket and takes out a vial of wispy blue mist. Kaveh stares at the vial, flips through his notes, checks Mehrak’s projection, pokes at his Terminal, and returns to the vial.

His stomach rolls.

“This is crazy,” Kaveh mutters lowly. He runs a hand through his hair and pulls—hard. “I’m crazy. This is crazy. Mehrak, is this crazy?”

Mehrak beeps.

The most obvious alternative to dendro is pure leyline energy. Leyline energy can hold the memories of the land better than dendro can, and its purity is similar to the dendro dream energy the Akasha System runs on.

Leyline energy is also the most transformative and volatile out of all the energies.

He stands, paces the length of his room, sits back down, stands again, then sits down.

He stares at the vial.

“Oh my gods,” Kaveh groans. “I guess I’m doing this.”

He breathes once, twice. Then, starts diluting the pure leyline energy with his dendro. He clasps the Terminal on. Slowly, he feeds the leyline energy into the terminal, imagining Nahida and her Sanctuary of Surasthana and wherever she is now.

He thinks of her in that dreamlike field.

All he needs to do is establish a connection with her Akasha.

Kaveh hears the static sounds of the leyline energy being accepted and exhales slowly. It is complete and utter nonsense. It doesn’t matter. All he needs to do is find her Akasha. After that… hopefully, she could send a similar sort of signal to him.

The static disappears. He waits.

It’s an awful few seconds.

Then—

“Ka—veh…?”

Kaveh stands. His chair clatters to the ground.

“Nahida?” he breathes.

A bang sounds against his front door.

Kaveh flinches. One of his hands takes off the Akasha and his other closes around his vision.

He stares at his door, heart thudding in his chest.

The banging resumes. Kaveh holds his breath and glances out at the pitch-black sky. He clears his workspace, returns all his notes and the vial of leyline energy to Mehrak, reassembles his Akasha, and makes his way to his front door.

He gestures for Mehrak to stay put and materializes his claymore. Slowly, he opens the door.

Two matra stand outside decked out in full gear with spears in hand.

Kaveh tenses.

“May I help you, sirs?” he asks, dematerializing his claymore.

“Are you Master Kaveh, Light of the Kshahrewar?” one of them asks.

Kaveh’s eyes narrow.

“Yes,” he says slowly. “How may I help you?”

One of the matra’s hands shoots out and grabs his wrist. Kaveh pulls back. The matra spins him around, grabs his other wrist, and presses both his hands behind his back—grip tightening to an almost painful degree.

“Hey—!” Kaveh protests, feeling the matra wrestle his vision and Akasha Terminal from his hands. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Master Kaveh, you’re arrested for suspected collusion against the Akademiya,” one of them recites.

“What?!” he protests, trying to catch sight of the soldiers. “What are you talking about?!”

“You have the right to remain silent,” the matra continues, unperturbed. “Anything you say can and will be used against you—”

Something flashes green.

Kaveh ducks. One of the matra swings his spear and whacks the thing out of the air. He whips his head. The thing clatters to the ground with a metallic clang and disappears before he can get a good look at it.

Another flash of green. The matra behind him grunts. Kaveh feels the grip around his wrists loosen. He yanks his hands away and whips around—claymore materializing in his hand again.

There’s another person there, a black cape around their shoulders and their head covered by a shawl, fighting the matra. The white saber in their hands meets the matra’s spears—the sound ringing in the empty space.

Kaveh does not wait to see what happens next.

He tears into his bedroom and grabs Mehrak. The suitcase beeps worriedly. Kaveh immediately shushes it. He grabs as many of his tools from his desk as he can and the notebook from his bedside table and stuffs it into Mehrak.

A loud thump sounds by his front door, followed by another. Kaveh does not think. His heart thunders in his chest. He does not think.

He looks up at his completely open window.

A hand grabs his wrist.

Kaveh blindly swings his claymore.

The person phases away, dendro particles left in their trace.

Kaveh books it for his window.

“Wait—”

He does not wait.

The same flash of green is the only warning he gets.

“Sorry,” the person murmurs.

Pain blooms in the back of his head. Kaveh blacks out immediately after.

Awareness is the first thing that returns to him when he regains consciousness again—initially fading in and out like waves lapping on a shore before he finally comes to. After that, sound and feeling filter back, helping him fill in the gaps in his memory. He keeps his eyes shut and his breathing steady, assessing himself and the situation.

Almost immediately, he realizes he’s on a ship.

He’s on a ship swaying against the waves and lying on some sort of mattress. Voices are murmuring in the same room as him—the words quick and sharp like an argument.

There’s a dull ache behind his head, but everything else seems to be fine. He’s not bound at the hands or feet either. In fact, he’s rather comfortable.

“You should’ve let me handle this,” a voice hisses, loud enough for Kaveh to hear.

“Your fighting style is too recognizable. You would’ve been caught immediately,” another voice responds flatly.

“At least he wouldn’t be unconscious like he is now.”

“He was about to jump out of his own window and had his claymore in his hands. What would you have had me do?”

“Show your face. Let him know you are someone familiar.”

“I don’t believe he would have wanted to see my face.”

Wait.

Kaveh shoots up, causing the heads of two men at the foot of the mattress to turn. His jaw drops.

“What the hell?”

Cyno exhales.

“Kaveh,” he greets. “I’m glad you’re awake. I apologize for the rough way you were transported here.”

Kaveh stares.

Cyno looks the same as the last time he saw him. He’s in his General Mahamatra outfit minus his jackal headwear, arms crossed and mouth pressed into a thin line—an expression Kaveh knows to mean he’s currently working.

The other man in the room though…

“What the hell?” Kaveh repeats. “I didn’t know you two knew each other.”

“We don’t,” Al-Haitham says flatly.

“It’s a long story,” Cyno agrees.

Kaveh blinks and closes his mouth. The room goes quiet—the tension in the air almost palpable.

“Where have you been?” Kaveh asks, resolutely staring at Cyno only. “Tighnari’s been worried about you.”

“That is… also a long story,” Cyno says, eyes shifting between him and Al-Haitham.

“Is everything a long story?” Kaveh demands. He scans the room, seeing cabinets lining the walls and another bed opposite to him. The slight smell of antiseptics lingers in the air. “Why are we on a ship? Why are the two of you together? Whose ship is this, Cyno? Why did you kidnap me here?”

“For the record,” Cyno says, sounding strained. “We hadn’t meant to kidnap you, only get you away from the matra and bring you to safety.”

“And knocking me out was the best course of action?”

“At the time, yes,” Al-Haitham says. Kaveh turns his head and scowls. “You wouldn’t have let me get close to you otherwise.”

“Ah, of course,” Kaveh retorts dryly. “That completely justifies hitting me in the back of the head.”

“Kaveh,” Cyno says before Al-Haitham can bite back, “you’re familiar with Al-Haitham, correct?”

Kaveh’s scowl deepens. A long-forgotten bitterness burns in the back of his throat. Al-Haitham meets his stare, expression unsurprisingly blank.

He looks away, fingers curling into fists.

“Unfortunately,” he mutters.

The last time he properly saw Al-Haitham was back in their Akademiya days. Pictures through the Akasha or passing glances did nothing to show just how much he’s changed since then. Gone was the awkward lankiness and lingering baby fat—instead, he’d grown taller and his muscles filled out, defined against his skin-tight shirt.

His eyes, Kaveh notes, are still the same—teal around blood-orange and cold.

“Wait.” Kaveh looks up, shooting Al-Haitham a suspicious look. “You were the one who fought off the matra?”

“Is that so surprising?” Al-Haitham drawls.

“How did you get in?”

“Your window was open.”

“Oh.” Kaveh looks away. “Right.”

His eyes land on the table next to him. He blinks and shoots his hand out for his vision and Akasha Terminal.

“You got these back?”

“I knocked out the matra who took them. Of course I would get them back.”

Kaveh clips his vision to his waist, then his Akasha Terminal on, and immediately pulls up the command history on his Terminal. At the very top, from an unfamiliar Akasha, Kaveh sees the audio transcription: “Kaveh”.

Nahida.

Kaveh pushes himself out of bed, swaying slightly when the boat moves. He ignores Al-Haitham and Cyno’s movements to help and asks, “Where is Mehrak?”

Al-Haitham frowns.

“Who’s Mehrak?” he asks.

“My suitcase. I had her in my hands before you”—Kaveh throws a pointed look at Al-Haitham—“knocked me out. Did you bring her too?”

“She’s right here.” Cyno lifts her by the handle.

“Oh my gods.” Kaveh reaches for her, and Cyno carefully hands her over. “Thank the Archons.” He powers her on, waiting for her little face box to flicker to life.

“You named your suitcase?” Al-Haitham asks.

Kaveh ignores him, watching the familiar carets light up Mehrak’s screen. He grins.

“Mehrak!” he greets, letting her hover in the air. “Could you hand me my notes and my pencil please?”

Mehrak beeps, dropping both in his hands.

“It’s sentient,” Al-Haitham says. If Kaveh didn’t know any better, he would say the other sounds almost impressed.

“It is a she. Don’t be insensitive,” Kaveh shoots back. “Although, I suppose I shouldn’t expect any better from you.”

Kaveh flips to a blank page and immediately starts scribbling. He racks his brain, trying to remember the ratio of leyline energy to dendro energy he had used, then opens up his Akasha Terminal again, noting down Nahida’s Akasha tag.

“What are you doing?” Cyno asks.

“An experiment of sorts,” Kaveh answers, starting to pace the room. “Nahida hasn’t appeared in my dreams for two weeks, so I’ve been modifying my Akasha to try and find hers. I made contact last night just before the matra came but wasn’t able to write down everything. I’m so close.”

“Wait,” he hears Cyno say, “Nahida—?”

“Lesser Lord Kusanali,” Kaveh interrupts and looks up, catching Cyno and Al-Haitham exchanging confused glances. He raises a brow. “You two know something. What is it?”

“So it really was you last night,” Cyno starts, awed. He steps forward. “How were you able to send a message to us?”

“What do you mean it was me? What do you know? Is Nahida okay?” Kaveh presses desperately, leaning into Cyno’s space. “Where is she?”

“She’s—”

“I’m here.”

Kaveh’s head whips to the door. His eyes widen, seeing his dreams come to life. There at the threshold stands a girl with white hair tipped green and the brightest green eyes he’s ever seen—a small, shy smile on her face.

His pencil slips out of his grip.

“Archons,” Kaveh breathes. He rushes to close the little bit of distance between them and pulls Nahida into the tightest hug possible.

Chapter Text

Kaveh’s ushered into what looks like the Captain’s quarters of the ship by one of the crew mates—Nahida’s hand in his and Cyno and Al-Haitham following closely behind. The raucous laughter and cheerful singing from the eremite crew on the deck travels through the walls, adding a muffled sort of warmth to the quarters.

From his spot by the door, Kaveh sees a bed pushed to the corner and navigation maps plastered on the walls and every open counter space available. A handful of claymores and scimitars hang from the walls—all clearly well-maintained and well-loved. Opposite the bed is a dresser with a mirror and vanity pushed next to it and a long table in the middle of the room with chairs all around.

There are already people sitting at the table when they enter—a woman with lightning-blue eyes and dark hair flowing down to her waist. She watches Kaveh with a sharp smile as he hesitantly steps closer to the table. Sitting next to her is a blonde woman and what looks like a pixie floating close to her side.

Kaveh squeezes his hands together and reminds himself to breathe.

“Master Kaveh, correct?” The brown-haired woman asks, standing and offering her hand. “I’m Dehya, the captain of this ship.”

Kaveh nods and takes her hand, feeling her firm grip.

“It’s nice to meet you, Dehya,” he greets back with a cordial smile of his own. He seats himself down in a random seat around the table. Nahida takes the seat to his right and Al-Haitham the seat to the left. “Your ship is lovely.”

Dehya snorts.

“Of course it is,” she says smugly.

Kaveh nods and lets his eyes slip to the other unknown woman.

“I’m Lumine,” the blonde-haired woman says with a small wave, lips curving up in a slight smile. “This is Paimon.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Kaveh!” the pixie creature—Paimon—says brightly. “We’ve heard a lot about you.”

Kaveh raises a brow.

“Have you now?” He glances at where Cyno is sitting a few chairs away, raising a brow, before meeting Paimon’s gaze again. “All good things, I hope?”

“Of course!” Paimon assures. “Al-Haitham, surprisingly, only seems to have good things to say about you!”

Kaveh narrows his eyes. He refuses to look back at the man next to him.

“I see. That’s… good.”

“Well,”—Dehya claps her hands together—“now that everyone has been introduced, I’m sure you’re wondering what’s happening and why you’re here.” She sits back down and leans her elbows against the table, hands laced together, and smile dimming into something far more serious. “What do you know so far, Master Kaveh?”

“Uh…” Kaveh blinks. “About what?”

Dehya purses her lips.

“You haven’t told him anything?” she asks, glancing between Al-Haitham and Cyno.

“I thought it best to tell him with everyone around,” Cyno says, glancing at Kaveh. Kaveh reflexively straightens his back. “I assume Tighnari informed you about my desertion two weeks ago?”

“He did.”

“I left because I suspected the Akademiya was holding illegal experiments, and when I attempted to look into those experiments, I was ordered to look the other way,” Cyno says. “So I took matters into my own hands. After leaving Sumeru City, I headed to Aaru Village and found the matra taking Aaru Village’s Village Keepers from the island. When I talked with the village guardian, Candace, I learned the matra have been making frequent trips to Aaru Village for its Village Keepers for the last few weeks.”

Kaveh’s brows furrowed.

“Why?”

“To make what the Akademiya are calling ‘Divine Knowledge Capsules’,” Al-Haitham says. “You’re aware that Village Keepers are those who have formed a connection to Irminsul, correct? The Akademiya have been making knowledge capsules out of their knowledge of Irminsul.”

“But… that information is useless to them,” Kaveh argues. “The human mind isn’t malleable enough to understand the vastness of Irminsul—not unless you have insane mental fortitude or the blood of an Archon. Using a capsule like that is a one-way ticket to insanity. Everyone knows this.” He pauses. “Unless…”

His eyes widen. Kaveh scans the table, catching everyone’s gaze—daring them to prove him wrong—and sees only grim expressions on their faces. An awful sense of dread begins to stick at the back of his throat.

“I see you’ve already come to a conclusion.” His head whips to face Al-Haitham, eyes widening further when he sees the frown on the other’s face.

“No…” he mutters. “No. No way. Are they insane? There’s no way they’re trying to replace Nahida. Who did they even find with Archon blood in them?!”

“An illegitimate, abandoned Inazuman royal by the name of Kunikuzushi,” Nahida murmurs. Kaveh turns to the girl, watching her fiddle with her fingers, a dejected look on her face. “All the royal families in all of the seven nations are descendants of the Archons. Although the Dendro Archon’s blood connects all her descendants to Irminsul—anyone with Archon blood in them can understand Irminsul with enough exposure.”

“But… why?” Kaveh asks. “Why would they want a different ruler?”

“Azar is power-hungry,” Al-Haitham says like he’s stating the obvious. “Nahida poses a threat to his power. This Inazuman Royal has already been abandoned by the Inazuman Royal Courts. If Azar brings this boy to power as the Ruler of Sumeru by connecting him to Irminsul, he’s essentially got a puppet ruler in his hands.”

“And what then? Continue destroying the arts? Continue blocking knowledge from those he deems ‘unworthy’? What good has he done for Sumeru since Greater Lord Rukkhadevata died?” Kaveh demands, glaring at Al-Haitham. “This is ridiculous. He’s gone insane.”

“Don’t shoot the messenger, Kaveh,” Al-Haitham says mildly. “I’m not the one you should be directing your anger at.”

Kaveh’s fingers twitch. He huffs, staring down at the grain of the wooden table.

“There’s no way,” he mutters. “Are you all sure this is what’s happening?”

“You were the one who came to this conclusion,” Al-Haitham responds. Kaveh scowls at him. “How confident are you in your deduction skills?”

“Are you sure they’re using the Village Keepers to make these so-called ‘Divine Knowledge Capsules’?”

“I was able to get ahold of one with Lumine’s help about two weeks ago,” Al-Haitham says. “I’m certain it’s the knowledge of Irminsul from the Village Keepers.”

“We sank a matra ship recently and the scholar on board confirmed it himself too,” Dehya adds. “They’re trying to force that Inazuman Royal to connect with Irminsul.”

Kaveh sucks in a breath.

“Wait, wait,” he says, if only to let his mind breathe. “You all sank a matra ship? What the hell have you guys been up to these past two weeks?”

Dehya snorts.

“Want the short answer or the long one?”

“Long,” Kaveh insists.

“In that case, maybe our traveler should start us off.”

“Paimon can start!” the pixie girl says. “Lumine and Paimon are adventurers! We came to Sumeru to find Nahida and ask a few questions. We met Dehya while she was helping out a few of her friends in the Corps of Thirty, and then found Al-Haitham in Port Ormos and helped him find one of those Divine Knowledge Capsules.

“After that, we returned to Sumeru City to participate in the Sabzeruz Festival, but it got canceled before we could eat any food,” Paimon says, pouting. “Dehya suggested going to Aaru Village and meeting with the Village Keepers to see if they had any insight on Nahida and offered to sail us there.

“We met with Al-Haitham again in Port Ormos who came with us, and then met Cyno and Candace in Aaru Village.

“Then, we sank a matra ship, found out about the puppet ruler plot, met up with Dehya’s eremite friend Rahman, rescued Nahida, and kidnapped you!” Paimon pauses. “Oh, Paimon just explained everything.”

Kaveh buffers.

“I—I see,” he says, slowly. “I’m sorry, how the hell did you save Nahida? Isn’t the Sanctuary heavily guarded?”

“The matra at the Sanctuary hadn’t realized Al-Haitham and I deserted,” Cyno explains. “I believe Azar is keeping that information private to avoid instability. Communication is already sparse enough between the matra in the Sanctuary and the rest of Sumeru due to the Akasha’s limited reach. Any important messages are sent weekly by ship from Port Ormos to the Sanctuary.

“Because Nahida is of age this year, the matra were already expecting someone to come and retrieve her. Al-Haitham and I simply walked into the Sanctuary, released her, explained the situation to the matra, and left.” Cyno shrugs. “Frankly speaking, your rescue was riskier than Nahida’s.”

“There has to be something wrong if it’s that easy to take Nahida away…” Kaveh says, pained.

“I won’t look a gift horse in the mouth, but I agree.” Cyno’s eyes slip to Nahida, mouth pressed in a taut line. “When you are in power, I will make sure you are better protected than the lackluster effort in the Sanctuary.”

When, Kaveh notes—watching Nahida mutely nod to Cyno’s words. To this group, it wasn’t an if.

“So you guys are planning a coup then,” Kaveh murmurs.

Cyno nods. “There’s no other choice.”

Kaveh doesn’t respond.

“With that though, you should be all caught up to current times now, Master Kaveh,” Dehya says, breaking the silence. “Any questions?”

“Give… me a moment,” Kaveh says, elbows on the table and fingers rubbing his temple. He ignores the prickling feeling of everyone’s stares and closes his eyes, wrapping his head around… everything.

For the past two weeks, Azar has been stealing the Village Keepers from Aaru Village in an attempt to connect an abandoned Inazuman Royal to Irminsul and legitimize him as Sumeru’s Ruler. And, the only people aware enough of the situation to stop him are an eremite captain, an adventurer and her sidekick, the General Mahamatra, and the Grand Scribe of all people.

Al-Haitham, of all people.

Where does Kaveh fit in this equation?

“Why did you guys save me from arrest?” he asks, raising his gaze to meet the others. “As much as I appreciate the help, it doesn’t look like I can bring anything to this group that you don’t already have. You all seem like you have it under control.”

Kaveh sees Cyno meet Al-Haitham’s eyes. He glances at the Scribe, catching the way Al-Haitham’s clasped hands tighten minutely.

“I remember you were once a part of a renovation project for the Akademiya back when we were students,” Al-Haitham says, shifting so that he’s fully facing him. “Do you still have the blueprints of the layout of the Akademiya?”

Kaveh deadpans.

“That’s it?” he asks.

“It’s part of it.”

“Al-Haitham,” Kaveh starts, slow and measured. “You work at the Akademiya every day. You would have a better idea of the floor plan than my almost-a-decade-old blueprints. They aren’t even the full blueprints. You know I only shadowed the creative team back then.”

“Perhaps there’s something I missed.”

“You?” Kaveh scoffs. “Never.”

That seems to make Al-Haitham raise a brow.

“Al-Haitham also mentioned you had a knack for mechanics,” Paimon adds. “He says you were really good with your hands.”

Al-Haitham coughs.

“I graduated from Kshahrewar,” Kaveh says. “Mechanisms and puzzles are our specialty. What does this have to do with your coup?”

“We might need a few alterations done on an Akasha Terminal for our plan to work,” Al-Haitham explains. “You were the first person we thought of.”

“Whatever alterations you need, you should have been able to alter them yourself,” Kaveh dismisses. “You made your soundproof headphones. You read the whole Akasha Terminal user manual when we were given them during our Akademiya days. I don’t understand why you’d need me to help with that, especially with Nahida here.”

“You said it yourself,” Al-Haitham shoots back, brows creased in what Kaveh used to know as frustration. “Your darshan specializes in mechanics and engineering. You yourself fiddled with likely hundreds of machines. I am aware you drew up models of the inside of a Terminal when we first got them. Between you and me, there is no competition—not even with Nahida.”

Kaveh stiffens. He curls his hands into fists and buries them in his lap, out of sight.

How many rinse-and-repeat arguments had they cycled through during their Akademiya days? Right and wrong, truth and lies—neither of them backing down from their points. How many times had they agreed to disagree, never coming to a satisfying resolution?

He remembers all the times he’d wished Al-Haitham was a little less stubborn—a little less prideful. A little more understanding.

No competition sounds foreign from his lips.

“I don’t understand why you’re being so contrary, Kaveh,” Al-Haitham continues. “Why do you insist on your uselessness? You had always known the worth of your skills when we were in the Akademiya. Were you hoping for reasons other than the ones I listed?”

Kaveh glares.

What was he hoping Al-Haitham would say? That he came because he knew Kaveh was in trouble? That he valued Kaveh as a person? That he still cares after all these years?

That Kaveh was right and he was wrong?

It’s been years.

“We haven’t spoken in years, Al-Haitham,” he says lowly. “Don’t pretend like you know me.”

Al-Haitham presses his lips together and crosses his arms.

Kaveh turns back to the rest of the group. He ignores Cyno’s curious gaze and the way Dehya, Lumine, and Paimon keep glancing between him and Al-Haitham.

“Tell me what modifications you need. I’ll do it,” Kaveh says, consciously keeping his voice light.

“Let’s save that for tomorrow,” Dehya says gently. “It’s late and we’ve been here for a while now.”

Kaveh purses his lips, takes a breath, and nods.

“Uh, Dehya…?” Paimon calls out.

Dehya raises a brow, gesturing for Paimon to continue.

“There’s a slight problem with the… ah… beds,” she says.

She stares at Paimon and curses.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Kaveh deadpans.

“Sorry about this,” Dehya says, sounding genuinely remorseful. “I’d offer you an extra hammock if I could but…” she gestures helplessly.

Kaveh sighs.

“It’s alright,” he assures, sitting down heavily in the bed he’d woken up in. “There’s nothing that can be done. I understand.”

She huffs and nods once, glancing over at Lumine and Paimon. The two of them were already tucked in the other bed in the infirmary, asleep and practically dead to the world.

“Listen,” Dehya says, leaning against the doorframe of the door. “I don’t know what kind of history you have with Al-Haitham, but if this arrangement ends up being too much, let me know and we’ll try to figure something out.”

Kaveh nods and offers what he hopes is a grateful smile.

“Thank you, Dehya.”

“No problem. Sleep tight,” Dehya says, smiling gently. “Welcome to the team.”

Kaveh snorts.

“Thank you.”

She offers one last sympathetic look before closing the door behind her. Kaveh dims the pyro lamp and slips into bed, pressing himself as close to the wall as he can. He closes his eyes and prays he falls asleep before Al-Haitham returns from whatever it is he’s doing.

No such luck. Moments later, Kaveh hears the door open and close and the pyro lamp click off. He feels the mattress dip just behind him.

The bed is just barely large enough to fit the two of them with a few inches of space in between. Even so, Kaveh can still feel the heat emanating off of Al-Haitham like waves.

He exhales shakily, counting the seconds between each breath Al-Haitham takes.

Once upon a time, the steady cadence of Al-Haitham’s breathing used to be able to lull Kaveh to sleep. Now, it’s simply a constant reminder of the other’s presence.

Still, Kaveh squeezes his eyes shut and forces his breathing to match in time with Al-Haitham’s, hoping the lull of the ship is enough to send him to sleep.

Kaveh is sitting in a vibrant grassy field, the sun shining down and adhigama trees surrounding him in every direction. Above him, the sky is clear—puffy, white clouds lazily passing by.

“Kaveh.”

He turns, smiling at the girl behind him.

“Nahida.” He opens his arms. Nahida doesn’t hesitate to fall into them, her small hands wrapping snugly around his middle.

“I’m sorry for disappearing,” Nahida says, squeezing once before pulling back. “The matra in the Sanctuary began monitoring my dreams through my Akasha. It was too risky to visit your dreams without incriminating you.”

Kaveh’s brows furrow.

“Since when could the matra monitor dreams?”

“I believe a matra ship brought in one of my sister’s inventions two weeks ago.”

He blinks. “One of Greater Lord Rukkhadevata’s inventions?”

Nahida nods.

“Before she died, my sister was working on a way to expand the Akasha System to the sea,” she explains. “Because of that, she needed to know the minimum amount of dreams required to sustain the system, so she created an invention to measure and record information on dreams. The Sages likely altered that invention to monitor specific dreams rather than collect data on the system.”

“And then, they used it against you,” Kaveh finishes, thoroughly unimpressed.

Nahida nods and tilts her head. “Speaking of, how were you able to connect with us from Port Ormos? We were in the ocean when your message came through.”

Kaveh pauses.

“Ah.” He laughs awkwardly. “I… may have used pure leyline energy to help transfer the dendro energy.”

Nahida’s brows raise. Her frown is almost immediate.

“That is very dangerous. Leyline energy is known for its unpredictability.”

“I was desperate,” Kaveh admits sheepishly. “I hadn’t known what happened to you, so I thought, if you couldn’t visit me in my dreams, then maybe I could try to establish a connection with you through the Akasha.” He pauses. “By the way, did my message say anything?”

“No. It was complete gibberish,” Nahida admits, brows furrowed in worry. “What mattered was that it existed in the first place. Kaveh, you could’ve gotten hurt working with that kind of energy. There’s no knowing how it would’ve interacted with the Terminal.”

“I diluted it before feeding it into the Akasha,” Kaveh assures. “And even then, using leyline energy was a risk I was willing to take.”

Nahida’s frown deepens.

“You shouldn’t have had to put yourself in danger for my sake,” she mutters, almost petulantly. Kaveh chuckles.

“Whatever danger I put myself in, it’s my choice. You aren’t responsible for that, Nahida.”

“But as a citizen of Sumeru, I’m responsible for your safety and well-being,” Nahida says.

Kaveh shrugs. “I’m an adult. I can handle myself. It isn’t your job to look after me, especially when I’m your senior in this situation.”

“But it is,” she insists. “Isn’t it?”

“Why would it be?”

Nahida’s hands squeeze together. Kaveh lowers his eyes and gently teases them apart. He takes her hand and threads their fingers together.

“I’m the future Ruler of Sumeru,” Nahida murmurs. “It’s my job to make sure my country flourishes as my sister did. That means ensuring no danger comes to my citizens. I’ve already failed them by not stepping up as a leader when my sister died.”

Kaveh blinks.

“Nahida,” he says softly. “You were barely eight. There’s nothing you could’ve done.”

“But I’m a descendant of the Dendro Archon,” she says. “I have all of Irminsul’s knowledge at my disposal.”

“Even with all of Irminsul, you were still a child, Nahida. You were a child competing against adults for a spot in the power vacuum your sister left behind,” Kaveh says. “Bureaucracy is harsh even for the most experienced of political players, and you were only eight.”

Nahida bites her lip and lowers her head. Kaveh watches her, looks to the sky, and sighs.

“Is this about Kunikuzushi?” he asks.

“Is it that obvious?” she asks back. “I’m aware this is all Grand Sage Azar’s plan to install a puppet ruler, but Grand Sage Azar can’t be the only one in on a plan of this caliber. The other sages must also be in on it, meaning they all must believe I’ve failed Sumeru somehow.”

Kaveh’s gaze snaps back to Nahida. With the hand not holding hers, he carefully tilts her head so that they’re eye-to-eye.

“Azar is a worthless, power-hungry scumbag of a Grand Sage who believes his position somehow makes him holier than thou,” Kaveh presses, enunciating every word. “Since he’s taken charge of Sumeru, he’s restricted wisdom from those he deems unworthy and turned the Akademiya into even more of an elitist institution than before. He’s outlawed public performances, undermined the arts, and destroyed every last bit of information even just remotely related to you.

“You haven’t failed anyone, Nahida,” he insists, holding her gaze in his. “You haven’t even been given the chance to.”

Nahida’s eyes widen. She looks away, her free hand clenching into a fist.

Kaveh exhales and gently tugs on her hand, pulling her back into his arms.

“I met a dancer today at Zubayr Theater,” he says. “I’ve told you about the Grand Bazaar and Zubayr Theater before, right?”

He feels Nahida nod.

“You spoke of how lively it is there—that the Theater always has some performance going on, whether it be a poetry recitation or a dance,” Nahida says. “When this is all over, I’d like to visit it one day.”

“I’m sure you’d love it,” Kaveh says. “I consider it to be the heart of Sumeru City.”

“It sounds wonderful.”

“It is,” he agrees. “Anyway, I was at the Grand Bazaar buying some fruit, and I saw the dancer arguing with one of the matra in Zubayr Theater. I helped her out, and she told me she was trying to perform the Dance of Sabzeruz because she couldn’t perform it before the matra shut down the Sabzeruz Festival.”

He feels Nahida’s hands clench around his shirt.

“Did she get arrested?”

“No, and I was actually able to watch her performance.” Kaveh smiles. “It was gorgeous.”

The scenery flickers. A hazy projection of Nilou’s Dance of Sabzeruz appears in front of them. Nahida turns her head, watching the way Nilou twirls on the stage, her hydro manipulations twinkling under the light—her smile inviting and bright.

“What’s her name?” Nahida asks softly.

“Nilou,” Kaveh says

“Nilou,” she echoes.

“There are still people in Sumeru who believe in you, Nahida.”

Nahida stares, eyes tracking Nilou’s graceful movements. When she finally looks away from the projection, Nahida meets Kaveh’s gaze and smiles.

“Thank you,” she says.

“Mehrak, pull up my Akademiya blueprints please.”

Mehrak beeps and shines her light on the table, projecting a full, 3D model of the Akademiya.

“Thank you, dear.”

“Whoa,” Paimon breathes, floating around the model. “This is so cool!”

Dehya whistles.

“You have decade-old blueprints uploaded in her?”

Kaveh grins.

“Of course I do! I have the hard copies of these blueprints back at home and prefer those over using Mehrak. But Mehrak herself is amazing for modeling and mapping structures while I’m developing them.” Kaveh spins the model around, navigating himself through the winding hallways and ramps of the Akademiya. “Again, I don’t think I have any more information to offer you than what you already know, and these blueprints are outdated.”

“Do you know if there are any other paths to the Grand Sage’s office?” Al-Haitham asks.

Kaveh raises an unamused brow.

“Given you report to him, you of all people should know there isn’t,” Kaveh drawls. “The only way is through the elevator. It was built this way intentionally to make protecting the office easier. In a state of an emergency, it’s safer to stay in the office than anywhere else.”

“What about the entrances into the Akademiya?”

“There’s the main one and a few around the sides of the building, but with the structure being on a tree, getting to any of the side entrances means you’ll have to climb the Divine Tree.”

“What about the entrance to the confinement room?” Al-Haitham asks.

“That wasn’t part of the renovations. I don’t have a model for that.” Kaveh waves away the projection, raising a brow at Al-Haitham. “What’s the point of asking me questions that you and I both know you already have the answers to?”

Al-Haitham ignores him.

“Do you know how many entrances there are to the confinement room?”

“One, and it’s the same elevator that leads to the Grand Sage’s office,” Kaveh answers. “The confinement room is underground. Unless you have some way to dig yourself up, you’re stuck there. You already know this. And if not you, then Cyno.”

“I already explained last night why we needed you,” Al-Haitham says. “There’s no sense repeating the same things twice.”

“Your explanation doesn’t make sense,” Kaveh says, eyes narrowing at the Scribe. “You never liked working in a group. You always preferred to do things at your own pace. We both know how well you fared working with others before. And yet, here you are, asking me of all people to help with the Akasha Terminal when we both know you’re capable enough to handle it yourself.”

“H-hey…” Paimon stutters. Kaveh barely hears her.

“In fact, this whole situation sounds nothing like you,” he says. He steps toward Al-Haitham and hates that he has to tilt his head to meet the other’s eyes. “You’d never do anything without some sort of self-serving gain, and currently, I see no obvious ones. Whether it’s Nahida or Azar on the throne, it wouldn’t have affected you or your life as the Grand Scribe. I don’t understand why you’re even participating in a coup in the first place.”

“Guys—” Paimon starts.

Al-Haitham’s expression flattens. His lips twitch into a frown—brows furrowing the slightest bit. Years ago, Kaveh knew this expression to mean Al-Haitham was upset.

“We haven’t spoken in years, Kaveh,” he says, slow and deliberate. “Perhaps you should take your own advice.”

Kaveh splutters, eyes narrowing to slits.

“You—”

“Alright, that’s enough!”

He turns, spotting Dehya near the door with one of her crewmates standing next to her. He glances around the table, only now remembering the others in the room. Kaveh catches Nahida’s worried gaze and Cyno’s confused one and looks away, stepping back from Al-Haitham if only to have room to breathe.

“Whatever history you two have with each other,” Dehya continues, sending pointed stares at Kaveh and Al-Haitham, “you both need to can it. Asilah just spotted a matra ship in the distance.”

“This far out?” Cyno asks. “Dehya, where are we?”

“Southwest of Port Ormos,” Dehya says. “We’re headed for one of the eremite dock cities and rendezvousing with Rahman there. Matra ships don’t usually patrol this area. It isn’t following the regular patrols you lined out on the last matra patrol map either.”

“So it must be a ship transporting Divine Knowledge.”

Dehya nods.

Cyno’s spear materializes in his hand. The faint crackle of lightning echoes in the room. Dehya smirks, a hand on her hip while a claymore materializes in the other, the blade gleaming in the light.

“Glad we’re in agreement,” she says and turns to the other eremite in the room. “Tell the others to hoist the sails, Innam. We’re taking over that ship.”

“What?” Kaveh asks faintly. He watches Dehya and Cyno leave the room. He grabs Mehrak and makes to follow when Al-Haitham stops him.

“Take Nahida and go below deck,” Al-Haitham says, a white saber appearing in his right hand. “Make sure she stays safe.”

Kaveh scoffs, watching Lumine leave the room with a sword in hand and Paimon disappear in a shower of stars. Interesting.

“You guys need all the help you can get—”

“You are close with Cyno,” Al-Haitham interrupts. “You should know he prefers to work alone. And Dehya’s crew is experienced in these kinds of matters. You’ll only get in their way and cause a mess if you try to help.”

“And what about you then?” Kaveh retorts. “You’re a simple scribe. Why aren’t you going below deck as well?”

“I am not arguing with you about this,” Al-Haitham says, throwing a narrowed glare at Kaveh. “Go below deck.”

Al-Haitham spins on his heels and strides out the door.

Kaveh’s hands curl into fists. He runs a frustrated hand through his hair and spins, catching Nahida’s eyes. Kaveh pauses, forces himself to exhale through his nose, and offers her his hand.

“Come on. Let’s get you below deck before we reach the matra ship.”

Nahida takes his hand, and they walk out of the captain’s quarters.

The deck is an organized mess of eremites running around hoisting and bracing the sails. Kaveh hears Dehya shouting orders from the helm and looks up, seeing more eremites climbing the ratlines. He tightens his hold on Nahida’s hand and pulls her close, weaving between the running eremites to one of the stairs.

He leads her past the eremites preparing the ship’s cannons and reaches the infirmary, setting Mehrak down next to the bed. Kaveh glances out the window, watching the approaching matra ship.

“You aren’t going to listen to Al-Haitham, are you,” Nahida states more than asks.

“Of course not,” Kaveh scoffs. “He hasn’t said a single rational thing since we met, which is surprising considering it’s him. Why scold me about ‘getting in the way’ if he’s going out there to fight too?”

Nahida hums.

“You should stay here though, Nahida,” Kaveh says. “It’s far too dangerous for you.”

She raises a brow.

Kaveh stares at her, replays his own words, and groans.

“I realize my hypocrisy, but this is different,” he insists, moving to the door. “I’m older than you and worried about your safety. Al-Haitham is two years my junior, but he’s ordering me around like I’m some incompetent scholar and acting like a jerk.”

“You don’t believe Al-Haitham is thinking the same thing?” Nahida calls out.

Kaveh stops, his hand hovering over the handle of the door.

Honestly, that possibility hadn’t even crossed his mind.

“We… haven’t talked in a while. I haven’t seen him in years,” Kaveh says, resting his hand on the door handle. “I really don’t understand why he would still care.”

He twists the handle and strides out the door.

The main deck is still a mess when Kaveh climbs up the steps. The clanging of weapons rings in the air alongside shouting and barked orders. He glances around and runs towards the stern of the ship, passing by the mass of eremites controlling the sails. To his right, eremites are swinging on ropes hanging from the masts and across to the matra ship, swords in hand and shouting all the way down.

“Dehya!” he calls out, hurrying up the steps onto the quarterdeck.

Dehya turns, surprised.

“Dehya, what can I do to help?”

“Didn’t Al-Haitham tell you to stay below deck?” she asks, eyes flickering between him and the matra ship.

Kaveh scoffs.

“Why would I listen to him?”

That earns him a snort.

“Go help one of the crews with the sails,” Dehya says, nodding over to the rows of eremites each pulling on a separate line of ropes. “They’ll appreciate the extra manpower.”

Kaveh nods. The cracking sound of thunder tears through the air, causing Kaveh to flinch and Dehya to turn back towards the matra ship. He spots a flash of green within the fighting, flickering against the sun.

“If you don’t mind, ask one of the crew to take the wheel too,” Dehya adds, watching the ensuing fight across from them. “Can’t let Cyno and Al-Haitham have all the fun, now can I?”

Kaveh nods, watching the pyro vision at her hip glow a bright red. Dehya glances at him, winks once, and shoos him off.

He beelines for the first group of eremites on the main deck.

“Hey!” Kaveh shouts over the general noise, tapping the eremite at the end of the pulley system.

The eremite turns, and Kaveh recognizes her as the one who was in the Captain’s quarters before—Innam.

“Dehya needs someone to man the wheel, and she told me to come here to help.”

“You want to help?” she asks, sounding surprised.

“Yes.”

With that, Innam hands him the rope and starts running toward where Dehya is.

Kaveh panics.

“Wait! What do I do?” he asks.

Innam turns back, cocking her head to the side.

“Just pull when everyone else pulls,” she calls back and rushes up the stairs.

Kaveh blinks. He feels the rope in his hands slacken and starts pulling.

The fighting doesn’t last long after that. Kaveh just barely catches sight of Dehya swinging across and disappearing on the matra ship before bright orange flames bloom on the deck, lighting up the sky. Slowly, the sound of metal against metal starts to quiet until the only thing Kaveh can hear is the shouts of the various eremites on both ships.

He watches as some of the crew start setting up the gangplank while others begin knotting the ropes of the sails. Those who had swung on board the matra ship start filing back via the gangplank, carrying with them crates filled with knowledge capsules.

Kaveh scans the line of eremites, sighing when Cyno, Dehya, Lumine, and Al-Haitham all return unscathed.

Almost as soon as Al-Haitham steps back on deck, his eyes meet Kaveh’s. Kaveh watches him walk towards him, brows furrowed in barely concealed frustration.

“I thought I told you to stay below deck.” Al-Haitham glances around and frowns. “Where’s Nahida?”

“She’s in the infirmary,” Kaveh says, raising a brow. “And I couldn’t just stand around and do nothing.”

“Yes, you could, and people would’ve understood,” Al-Haitham insists, crossing his arms.

“So while everyone was out here helping, I’m supposed to hide?”

“You were supposed to protect Nahida and stay safe. Being up here is dangerous.”

“From what I could see, it looked like a one-sided fight in your favor. There was hardly any danger here,” Kaveh retorts. “And nothing happened. I’m fine. You’re fine. Everyone’s fine. I don’t understand why you’re getting upset about this.”

Al-Haitham exhales harshly.

“It’s the principle of it.”

“What principle? That I should listen to you? I’m sorry that I can’t understand why I’d follow unsound logic.” Kaveh crosses his arms, glaring up at Al-Haitham. “You told me that I’ll just get in the way, that I’m not experienced in this, that I’ll be a bother. And yet here you are, swinging across decks despite being the Grand Scribe of the Akademiya with just as much fighting knowledge as me! What do you take me for?!”

“You know I trained in the Akademiya in swordsmanship—”

“I wield a gods damn claymore!” Kaveh yells. “We trained together for Archon’s sake!”

“And it’s been years since then, as you’ve so kindly reminded me,” Al-Haitham responds coldly. He turns his head, eyes locking with Dehya’s. Dehya tenses. “How far are we from Aaru Village, Dehya? I’d like to drop Kaveh off with Candace.”

Kaveh gapes.

“What the hell?!”

“I’d rather have one less variable to account for.”

“One less variable to account for?” Kaveh repeats, fuming. “What the hell? If you wanted one less variable to account for, you would’ve let the matra arrest me yesterday!”

“Kaveh.” He feels Cyno place a hand on his shoulder, gently pulling him away. Kaveh tries to shake his hand off, but Cyno only tightens his grip. “The two of you need to take a breather.”

“Seriously.” Dehya sighs and lets her shoulders fall. “Al-Haitham, I hear you, but we can’t make a detour to Aaru Village. It’s too far for us to make a pit stop there.”

Kaveh takes a breath and lets Cyno pull him away from Al-Haitham.

“You two need to figure out whatever it is that’s going on though,” Dehya says, frowning at the two of them. “It’s barely been a day and you’ve both been at each other’s throats every chance you get.”

Kaveh closes his eyes and sighs.

“You okay?” Cyno asks.

“I’m alright. I’m good.” He opens his eyes and turns to Dehya, lowering his head. “I’m sorry for the disturbance I’ve been causing.”

Dehya nods.

“I don’t need you two to like each other, but I do need you two to get along.”

“Right. Yes. I’m sorry.” Kaveh nods, taking a step back. Cyno’s hand falls from his shoulder. “Please excuse me. I need some space.” He spins on his heels and walks away from the group.

He twists the doorknob to the infirmary and almost has a heart attack when he sees Nahida sitting obediently on his and Al-Haitham’s bed.

“Archons,” he breathes. “I forgot you were still here.”

“Is it safe to go out now?” Nahida asks.

Kaveh nods, closing the door behind him. He lets his gaze trail to the table next to the bed, and walks over, grabbing his Akasha Terminal with him.

“Are you okay?”

Kaveh blinks, glancing at Nahida’s wide, green eyes.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he asks, glancing around the bed. “Mehrak?”

He hears her characteristic beeps before the suitcase floats over to him, two carets projected over its core in a facsimile of a smile.

“I heard your argument with Al-Haitham.”

Kaveh freezes.

“Were we really that loud?”

Nahida shakes her head.

“I listened in through Al-Haitham’s Terminal,” she admits sheepishly. “I’m sorry. I was worried something bad was happening.”

Kaveh sighs and shakes his head.

“It’s alright. It wasn’t like it was a private argument anyway.” He pries open his Akasha Terminal, staring at the mess of wires and flowing dendro energy. “Mehrak, could you give me my things please?”

Mehrak beeps twice and deposits his tools, notebooks, and vials of leyline energy on the bedside table.

“Thank you, Mehrak.”

He opens his notes, flipping over to the page with all his calculations on ratios of leyline energy to dendro energy, and purses his lips.

“Mehrak,” he hears Nahida say under her breath. Mehrak chirps back in response. “Where did you get something like her? She looks like the machines in the ruins under the ocean from King Deshret’s time.”

“Actually, I made her,” Kaveh says, turning back to see Nahida reaching out to touch Mehrak’s core. “I bought some scrap metal from an adventurer who went on an expedition to the underwater ruins and used that to make her.”

Nahida tilts her head, brows raised.

“You made her?”

Kaveh nods.

“I didn’t make her core,” he clarifies. “I honestly don’t understand how she’s powered and sentient. I just did some minor adjustments and replaced a few parts that were falling apart.”

“It couldn’t have been just a few parts,” Nahida says. “Those primal constructs are in bad shape from what I’ve seen through Irminsul. They’re almost unusable. To be able to extract one of their cores and build Mehrak is very impressive.”

Kaveh smiles.

“I’m honored have earned such praise from the future Ruler of Sumeru,” he teases. Nahida’s lips quirk up, glancing at Kaveh, then at the notes he has spread out on the table.

“What’s this?”

“Oh. It’s my notes about the Akasha.” He grabs the notebook and hands it to Nahida. “It’s what I was up to in the two weeks you went missing.”

Nahida flips through the pages, eyes scanning the contents at an impressive speed.

“There’s a lot in here,” she says. “This must’ve taken so much work.”

Kaveh shrugs.

“It’s only a bit of research and fiddling around with the Terminal itself. It isn’t that big of a deal.”

Nahida looks at him over the notebook. With her mouth obscured by the notebook, Kaveh can’t tell what expression she’s making. Still, he shifts under her piercing stare.

“Are you going to continue with this research then?” she asks, and Kaveh gets the feeling that wasn’t what she was initially planning to say.

“Probably.” He shrugs, clasping his hands together if only to have something to do with them. “I don’t know what modifications to the Akasha they need, so the least I can do is try to make the Akasha workable even out here at sea.”

“With leyline energy?”

Kaveh nods.

“It’s the only lead I have currently,” he says, twisting his fingers. “Even if it’s… kind of useless if I don’t know what I’m sending.” He sighs. “I tried to see if I could make out some meaning in how the Akasha codes information into dendro energy, but I couldn’t figure any of it out.”

“That is on purpose,” Nahida says, lowering his notebook to her lap. “My sister made the Akasha code dendro energies similarly to how Irminsul’s information is coded; it’s understandable you couldn’t figure it out. Only someone with a connection with Irminsul can understand the code for privacy and safety’s sake.”

“I suppose that makes sense.”

“If you want to send a message to someone via the Akasha though, I can code the messages for you,” Nahida says. “Whatever it is, just let me know.”

Kaveh blinks, instinctively leaning forward. “Really?”

She nods.

“Oh my gods,” he breathes and laughs. “Thank you. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

“You might not have been able to understand the way the energy is coded, but the progress you have made in such little time is very impressive, Kaveh,” Nahida says. “The mere fact that you’ve been able to send a message across the sea is telling enough. It was something even my sister was struggling with when she was alive.”

“I’m sure it’s because I’m the only one desperate enough to use leyline energy to carry messages,” Kaveh deflects, the slightest bit sheepish.

Nahida purses her lips.

“That may be true, but you were still successful in the end,” she points out. “It takes a certain combination of intelligence and courage to make calculated gambles like this. I can see from your notes alone that you knew the risks and meticulously planned for them. You shouldn’t sell yourself short on this, Kaveh.”

Kaveh feels his cheeks grow warm under the praise. He laughs awkwardly.

“Gods,” he says, resisting the urge to bury his head in his hands. “With the way you’re speaking, you almost sounded like Al-Haitham.”

Nahida tilts her head.

“Al-Haitham?” she asks gently.

Kaveh blinks, furrows his brows, and pales.

“Ah… um.” He leans back. “I… didn’t mean to mention him.”

Nahida doesn’t respond, not immediately. Kaveh lets his eyes trail to Lumine and Paimon’s shared bed, finding the design of the headboard suddenly very interesting. He squeezes his hands together.

“Are you okay, Kaveh?”

“I’m good,” Kaveh assures lamely.

A pause.

“Okay,” Nahida says, the word slow and drawn out. “How had I sounded like Al-Haitham?”

Kaveh purses his lips, shifts in his seat, and exhales quietly. He meets Nahida’s stare.

“Your words—it just sounded like something he would’ve said to me back when we were younger,” Kaveh admits.

Nahida nods.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” she starts, “were you and Al-Haitham close during your Akademiya days?”

Kaveh snorts wryly.

“I suppose that’s one way to put it,” he says. “I spent a lot of my younger days with him, arguing like we do now, but with less anger and resentment behind our words. In many ways, I considered him to be the one who knew me best, and thought I knew him just as well.”

Nahida presses her lips together, a pensive look on her face.

“What happened to ruin that?” she asks. “You said you haven’t spoken to him in years.”

Kaveh shrugs.

“I found out I didn’t know him as well as I thought I did,” he says. “Either that or he and I knew each other too well. Whatever the case, we were assigned to a group project together with a few others and had a disagreement that spiraled into both of us saying a few choice words to each other.”

“I see.” Nahida scoots herself closer to Kaveh—their knees are almost touching. “No wonder the two of you seem so volatile together.”

“We were always volatile together,” Kaveh admits. “Polar opposites and all. I used to think that was a good thing—broadened our horizons, so to speak. Until we were opposites in ways that hurt—and our relationship never really recovered after that.”

“How long has it been?”

Kaveh huffs. “Gods, it must be close to a decade now?”

Nahida falls quiet.

“Do you miss him?”

“No,” he says, then backtracks. “Maybe. I don’t know.” He pauses. “If you asked me a week ago I would’ve said no. But now… it’s weird to see him again and feel like I know him, but know I don’t, and maybe I miss that. Knowing him.”

“The moon may change its appearance, but it’s still the same moon in the sky,” Nahida says. “Even if things look different, the two of you may still know each other better than you think.”

“I don’t know about that. Al-Haitham in the past wouldn’t have done something like this.” He gestures around the infirmary lazily. “He always had aspirations for a cushy life. This doesn’t look cushy to me.”

“Perhaps there’s something he values more than that dream of a cushy life,” Nahida intones, placing a hand on his knee.

Kaveh purses his lips. “Maybe—I don’t know. Years ago, I might have been able to say, but now…” He presses his fingers to his lips and lets his hand drop.

Nahida’s expression twists thoughtfully.

“When new information on a research topic is updated into the Akasha, discrepancies often occur between it and what was already there. The previously written data then is overridden by the new information,” she says. “This is a flaw in the Akasha System. Previously done research doesn’t become obsolete just because someone else has proved otherwise. It’s instead, built upon, replicated, retested, and used to contextualize the next steps in the research process.”

She smiles.

“Often, it’s a combination of the old and the new that brings the whole picture to life. It’s our job as scholars then, to figure out what kind of combination it is.”

Kaveh bites the inside of his cheek.

“I’m worried.”

Nahida inches her hand forward so she’s holding his in her smaller one. “Perhaps Al-Haitham’s worried too.”

“Him?” Kaveh asks disbelievingly.

“You told me to stay in the infirmary because you were worried about my safety,” Nahida says. “Al-Haitham told you to stay below deck as well.” She squeezes his hand, then retracts, going back to flipping through his notebook. “Find out what his combination of old and new is.”

Chapter Text

Kaveh is sitting in a vibrant grassy field, the sun shining down and adhigama trees surrounding him in every direction. Above him, the sky is clear—puffy, white clouds lazily passing by.

He isn’t alone. But the person in this dream with him isn’t his usual dream buddy.

“I thought you had an essay due tomorrow.”

He turns and sees Al-Haitham walking towards him on the field. The scene shifts and suddenly, he’s in Razan Gardens leaning against one of the pillars of the gazebos—the sprawling city of Sumeru underneath and the wind rustling the leaves above. When he looks down, he sees his old Akademiya uniform on him.

“I finished it already. Just need to edit it tonight. It’ll be fine,” Kaveh finds himself saying, watching Al-Haitham lower himself so he’s right next to Kaveh, the two of them pressed together from hip to shoulder.

This Al-Haitham is a facsimile of an Al-Haitham Kaveh remembers—the green and white Akademiya robes, a green hat with Haravatat’s black bull badge over his silver hair, and his signature soundproof headphones.

It’s a memory, Kaveh realizes, and whatever this memory is, it has to be a few months before he was set to graduate if Al-Haitham already had his soundproof headphones made.

Kaveh slips his arm between the crook of Al-Haitham’s elbow and leans his head against the younger’s shoulder.

“I’m tired,” Kaveh yawns, closing his eyes. “Wake me up in an hour, okay?”

“I’m not a pillow, senior,” Al-Haitham grumbles.

“Come on. Be a good junior for me, please? I didn’t go to sleep until late last night.”

“Why?”

“One of my classmates needed help with their model on ancient Inazuman architectural styles. I’d already finished mine so I decided to help them out.”

“When is it due?”

“It was due at midnight,” Kaveh mumbles. “An Akasha submission.”

He thinks he hears Al-Haitham scoff, then the sound of a page being turned. He feels Al-Haitham adjust his shoulder, pulling him closer to the crook of his neck.

“You shouldn’t have helped them.”

“They were desperate and it’s a big part of our grade.”

“Then they should’ve planned accordingly if they wanted to pass,” Al-Haitham retorts. “Had they started the assignment before they asked you for help?”

“They had the notes. Just had to come up with a design and create the model.”

“So they hadn’t started at all then?” he asks, thoroughly unimpressed.

Kaveh pinches Al-Haitham’s arm. “Stop asking so many questions. I’m going to sleep.”

Al-Haitham huffs, but obliges nonetheless.

Kaveh closes his eyes and feels a hand gently thread between his fingers.

The next time he opens his eyes, the sky’s shifted into splashes of oranges and pinks and the sun is setting on the horizon.

He sits up and twists out the kinks in his stiff neck, glancing down to see the two of their linked hands resting on Al-Haitham’s knee next to his book. Kaveh turns and catches Al-Haitham staring right at him, a quiet expression on his face.

“What?” Kaveh asks, voice hoarse.

“Did you have a nice nap?” Al-Haitham asks.

“I did. But I thought I told you to wake me up in an hour?”

Al-Haitham shrugs and stands, brushing the wrinkles out of his Akademiya uniform.

“You looked like you needed it.” He points to the skin under his own eyes and says, “Your eyebags were looking ugly, senior.”

Kaveh scowls, slapping Al-Haitham’s shoulder.

“You don’t have to be mean about it.”

“Go to sleep early tonight,” Al-Haitham responds, raising a brow, “and I won’t comment on them.”

Kaveh rolls his eyes, falling into step with Al-Haitham when the other starts walking down the ramp leading out of Razan Gardens and back into the Akademiya.

“Where are you headed off to?”

“House of Daena. I need to return a book.” Al-Haitham glances at him from underneath his bangs. Absentmindedly, Kaveh notes that they’re getting a little long. Maybe he should try to convince Al-Haitham to let him cut it again. “Where are you off to?”

Kaveh purses his lips and frowns.

“I need to get back to my dorms and submit that essay,” he says, groaning softly under his breath.

“I’ll walk you there.”

“How kind of you, junior,” Kaveh drawls.

“I can always leave too if you don’t want me around, senior—”

“Stop that!” Kaveh interrupts, shooting Al-Haitham and his stupid smirk a glare. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

Al-Haitham’s smile softens.

They fall silent as Kaveh leads them through the winding hallways and down towards the Kshahrewar dorms. The faint sound of tinkering and hammering slowly becomes louder the further they walk through his darshan’s quarters. Kaveh glances back and snorts when he catches Al-Haitham increasing his soundproofing with a disgruntled expression.

“I heard from Sage Khajeh that they’ve allocated a research site for us to use,” Al-Haitham says over the background noise.

“Oh?”

Al-Haitham nods. “It’s fairly close to the Akademiya too. Only a fifteen-minute walk away from what I heard.”

“Have you chosen our research topic then?”

“Not quite.” Al-Haitham steps closer to Kaveh to avoid a loitering group of students. Their shoulders brush and Kaveh grabs ahold of Al-Haitham’s wrist, keeping him near. “I would like to focus on the runes in those underwater ruins near Aaru Village though. The architecture during that time is intriguing enough to fit your interests too.”

Kaveh grins, even while he feels the bitter taste of dread coating the back of his throat, making his stomach clench. Hindsight is a terrible thing, isn’t it?

“I look forward to working on it with you, then,” he says, and he really had meant it back then, “even if your personality and philosophies are entirely disagreeable to me.”

“Funny, I feel the same way about you,” Al-Haitham drawls. “It’ll be an enlightening experience.”

Kaveh’s smile widens.

“Don’t be too harsh on our other group mates, by the way, Al-Haitham,” he says offhandedly. “I know how you get, but it’s important to hear a wide variety of perspectives, which means collaborating with others.”

Al-Haitham’s expression flattens almost immediately.

“So long as they can keep up.”

“They’re our group mates. It’ll be all of our responsibilities to work as a team.”

He hums noncommittally.

“Al-Haitham,” Kaveh chides. “Don’t be such a stick in the mud. Everyone deserves the chance to present their ideas. Listening to conflicting opinions helps us grow as scholars.”

“I have you,” Al-Haitham sniffs. “That is enough.”

Kaveh rolls his eyes and the subject is dropped.

They reach his door, nondescript besides its dorm number pinned in the middle. Kaveh fishes for his keys and slips them into the lock, his hand on the handle.

“Wait—”

He turns back, and finds himself caged against his door—his lips captured in a searing kiss. His eyes widen and flutter close, arms coming up to loosely rest on Al-Haitham’s shoulders.

Al-Haitham kisses him hard and fast and moves away just as quickly. He rests his forehead against Kaveh’s for a second, lets them both catch their breaths, and slips out of Kaveh’s grasp.

“Good night, Senior Kaveh,” Al-Haitham murmurs.

Kaveh resists the urge to press his fingers against his lips. He purses his lips and slips through his old dorm door.

As soon as he closes the door behind him, the scene falls apart, fracturing at the seams like a broken mirror.

And then, he’s back in the same green fields and adhigama trees, but this time, he’s alone. When he looks down, he catches sight of his white blouse and red cape and his present-day clothes instead of his Akademiya uniform.

He looks around at the empty space.

Do you miss him?

Did he?

His chest caves in on itself, and he wonders—for once—if the happier times between them meant more than their catastrophic end.

It’s barely dawn when Kaveh wakes, blinking up at the twilit ceiling. There’s a lump in his throat that he can’t identify, and a tightness in his chest he can’t put to name.

He sits up and freezes when he hears the sound of shuffling and a soft sigh next to him.

Right. He’d gone to bed early last night—not willing to repeat the awkward process of falling asleep knowing Al-Haitham is next to him.

He glances down, watching Al-Haitham turn toward him in his sleep—allowing him a full view of his face in the low light.

Even when they were younger, it was rare for Kaveh to wake up before Al-Haitham. His sleep schedule was simply more chaotic than Al-Haitham’s back then, and Al-Haitham preferred sleeping in his own bed over squishing himself into Kaveh’s—or letting Kaveh squish himself into his. Kaveh could count the number of times he’d seen a view like this on one hand.

With his face fully relaxed and his mouth slightly parted though, Al-Haitham seems softer—kinder and less severe. Gone is the furrow in his brow or the set to his jaw or the defensive coldness and all the things that make the current Al-Haitham seem like someone he doesn’t know.

Kaveh slowly reaches out, brushing Al-Haitham’s bangs away from his face, and sighs. He tilts his head forward and buries his face in his hands.

What is he even doing here, on a ship, sleeping in the same bed as someone he hasn’t spoken to in years? All he’s done so far is argue, and for what?

Because he’s worried?

No, worried isn’t the right word. If Kaveh had been less of a coward, he would’ve told Nahida that he is scared. He’s scared because Al-Haitham knew him too well back then and has never once held his tongue.

It scares him that Al-Haitham still cares. It means he still knows Kaveh enough to care.

Back then, he was glass waiting to shatter in Al-Haitham’s hands. He’d rather not be put in that same position again.

And maybe, he still wants to believe that things weren’t his fault—that their current state of affairs is a result of both their actions, even if he was the one who ran away first; that after all this time, it is still an argument of who was right and who was wrong.

Even if he’s only kidding himself.

Kaveh lowers his hands and stares at Al-Haitham. Asleep, he looks harmless—innocent even; nothing like how he is awake. Right now, nothing suggests he’s part of a ragtag crew planning to stage a coup.

He huffs.

If he’s on this ship to help modify an Akasha Terminal for a coup against Azar, then he has to at least attempt to be civil with Al-Haitham. He couldn’t continue acting so antagonistic. The others didn’t deserve this after all their work.

Nahida didn’t deserve this.

Al-Haitham shifts again in his sleep. Kaveh freezes, holding his breath—watching the other like a hawk. Al-Haitham blinks his eyes open, his hazy gaze unwittingly meeting Kaveh’s own.

Kaveh stares at Al-Haitham staring back, and can pinpoint the exact moment awareness fully returns to Al-Haitham.

For a moment, neither of them moves.

Then, Al-Haitham turns, swinging his feet off the bed.

Kaveh’s hand shoots out without thinking.

“Wait.”

He grabs Al-Haitham’s wrist and feels them both stiffen.

Al-Haitham glances down at his hand, then his face, then the other occupants in the room.

“Are they still asleep?” Kaveh asks, keeping his voice hushed.

“It seems so.” Al-Haitham turns back, raising a brow. “What is it?”

“Ah.” Kaveh lets go, leaning back against the wall. He clasps his hands together and squeezes. Al-Haitham glances at his hands and shifts, turning so he’s facing Kaveh completely.

Kaveh takes a breath and raises his gaze.

“I’m sorry for the way I’ve been acting,” Kaveh intones, shifting awkwardly when both of Al-Haitham’s brows raise. “It was unprofessional of me. I’ve been unnecessarily hostile when hostility is the last thing you and everyone else on this ship needs.”

Al-Haitham doesn’t respond, merely watches him curiously, and so, Kaveh continues.

“Whatever it is you need me to do with an Akasha Terminal, let me know,” he says. “I’ll do it. And, I promise I’ll be more civil towards you.”

“Apology accepted,” Al-Haitham says, still staring at him weirdly. “I’m sure that must’ve been very hard for you.”

Kaveh gapes.

“What the hell?” he hisses.

Al-Haitham presses a finger to his lips and stands, grabbing his coat off one of the many racks. He gestures to the door and Kaveh makes to follow. They climb up to the deck where the few eremites on the night watch are puttering around, maintaining the ship. Kaveh glances at the quarterdeck and spots Innam behind it.

He gives a little wave, one that Innam returns hesitantly, looking almost surprised to have been noticed.

Al-Haitham leads them to the railing, leaning against it. Kaveh looks out to the horizon, watching the sun slowly start to ascend, then turns to Al-Haitham with an expectant look.

“Can a Terminal change a message while it’s being sent?” Al-Haitham asks.

Kaveh furrows his brows.

“You mean while it’s being transmitted or before the message has left the Terminal?”

“It doesn’t matter when.”

“Potentially,” Kaveh answers, bringing a hand to his chin. “But it’s complicated. Part of the Terminal’s job is to protect the energy before it’s released so it doesn’t change while in transit. On top of that, the energy used is the purest form of dendro energy and also the rarest. Once it is in transit, it’s essentially impossible to search for specific messages.”

“But can you do it?” Al-Haitham asks.

Kaveh purses his lips.

“How long do I have?”

“Less than a week,” Al-Haitham says. “All of this needs to be done before the next matra ship visits the Sanctuary and finds out Nahida has escaped.”

Kaveh winces.

“It’s a little tight,” he admits. “How important is this to the plan?”

“Very.”

“How quickly does the change need to be done?”

“It must be immediate.”

“What is the plan?”

Al-Haitham hesitates. Kaveh sighs.

“Look, Al-Haitham,” he starts. “I appreciate you trying to keep me out of danger, but I’m gonna need to know as many specifics about this plan as possible, especially with how little time I have.”

Al-Haitham frowns. “So you were aware.”

“Sort of.” He looks away. “I had someone spell it out for me. I didn’t want to believe it.”

“Why?”

“It doesn’t matter why,” Kaveh says quickly. He crosses his arms and takes a breath, schooling his expression into a neutral one. “Let’s stay on track. What’s your plan for this coup?”

Al-Haitham leans against the railing, staring at Kaveh like he’s scanning him for something. Whatever it is he finds, it must have worked in Kaveh’s favor.

“A few weeks back, Azar asked me to draft an ‘Artistic Performances Prohibition Act’.”

“What?!”

Al-Haitham shushes him, throwing him a dirty look.

“Sorry.” He gives a sheepish smile and asks, “Are you serious?”

Al-Haitham nods. “I have no idea whether or not it is in place as of now, but I submitted it to Azar just before I left.”

“I don’t think it is,” Kaveh says. “I talked with a dancer the day I was arrested and public performances were still permission-based, not completely banned.”

“Perhaps Azar has been too busy connecting Kunikuzushi to Irminsul to care,” Al-Haitham says. “Regardless, we’ll have someone hold a public performance in front of the Akademiya, allowing Azar the chance to spread the ban to the matra.

“Here, someone will alter the message Azar’s Terminal sends to be that Lesser Lord Kusanali has escaped from the Sanctuary of Surasthana and all matra must gather in Port Ormos to detain her. From there, Dehya and her friend Rahman will deal with the matra and stall them while Cyno arrests Azar for treason.”

“Clever,” Kaveh notes. “You’re using the Akademiya’s reliance on the Akasha System against them.”

“That is my hope, yes.”

“What about the blonde adventurer—Lumine?”

“Lumine has assured us she can stop Kunikuzushi alone,” Al-Haitham answers. “She’s apparently familiar with him from her travels in Inazuma. I believe it would also be best for Nahida to go with the Traveler, in case Kunikuzushi has already connected to Irminsul. Her going with Lumine rather than us will also prevent Nahida from getting arrested while the coup is in progress.”

“Makes sense.”

“Good. Any questions?”

Kaveh’s brows furrow.

“When the message is altered, will the person be in the same room as Azar?”

“Yes. That person will likely be me as well.”

“Will you be in view of his Akasha Terminal?”

“If I need to be, then I will.”

Kaveh nods, his mind already rushing to recall his notes on the Akasha System. “In that case, I think this can be done.”

“Good.”

They both go quiet. Kaveh shifts in place, catching Al-Haitham turning his head towards the horizon. That seems to be as much of a sign that the conversation is over as any, and yet, Kaveh feels as if this isn’t quite what he was hoping for.

“Do you want to help?” he blurts out before he can lose his nerve.

Al-Haitham turns, brows furrowed.

“Do you want my help?”

“I’ll want to test the modifications before it’s used against Azar, which means I’ll need another person to test it out with,” Kaveh reasons.

“That doesn’t answer my question.” Al-Haitham crosses his arms and leans forward. “Do you want my help?”

Kaveh blinks. The memories of his dream flood him—of that initial excitement to be working on a research project with someone he was so close with, who knew how he worked and vice versa, who constantly challenged his views. No matter how awfully their research project fell apart, Kaveh can’t deny he was thrilled to be working with Al-Haitham.

That same excitement simmers in him now—exponentially weaker than when he was younger, but still there all the same.

“I do,” Kaveh admits. “I wouldn’t have offered it if I didn’t.”

Al-Haithan’s eyes flicker over his face before he nods once.

“When do we start?”

“Before we can start modifications, we’ll need to figure out a way to use the Terminals even out here in the sea,” Kaveh says, setting Mehrak down on the table. “Mehrak, dear, could you give me all my tools, my notes, and the leyline energy I collected?”

“I thought you already figured that out?” Al-Haitham asks, watching Mehrak deposit all of Kaveh’s things onto the table they had found in the mess hall. He eyes the vials of misty blue energy warily.

“I figured out how to transfer dendro energy, not how to transfer a message,” Kaveh says. “Thank you, Mehrak.” He opens his notebooks, flipping through the pages until he finds his calculations on the ratio of leyline energy to dendro energy. “The transmission I gave Nahida was utter garbage. It was nothing. At the time, I didn’t care what I was sending, only that I sent something.”

“And now, we have to figure out how to send something specific.”

Kaveh grins. “Exactly. Now, how much do you know about how the Akasha System operates?”

“I read the user manual.”

He makes a face. “You’re gonna have to help me out here, Al-Haitham, because I didn’t read the user manual.”

“Start from the basics then,” Al-Haitham says. “It’ll be good for us to ensure we both have the same level of understanding.”

Kaveh nods and turns to Mehrak.

“Could you project a map of Sumeru for us please, Mehrak?” She beeps happily and shines a 3D projection of a map of Sumeru on the table. Kaveh smiles at Mehrak and meets Al-Haitham’s eyes. “First of all, it’s best to think of the Akasha System as a sort of hivemind with each Terminal being one mind in the hive.

“This means three things: information can be submitted by anyone with a Terminal, this information is all stored somewhere, and this information connects every part of the hivemind together.” He touches certain points of the map, outlining Sumeru City and Port Ormos.

“The Akasha System runs on dendro energy, specifically dendro dream energy, which it gathers every night from the people of Sumeru. It’s the purest form of dendro available and the rarest, making it the least likely to face interference from the surrounding environment.”

“How could the environment interfere with the dendro dream energy?” Al-Haitham asks.

“If there’s dendro dream energy to the same level of purity as the energy the Akasha uses in the environment, it can change the code of the transmission,” Kaveh explains. He pauses, placing a hand on his chin. “Think of it like ripples in the water. If I drop two stones in a pond, the ripples they make will interfere with each other, changing the pattern. The Akasha uses dream energy to avoid this. Makes sense?”

Al-Haitham nods.

“Using dendro is beneficial in two ways.” He grabs his notebook and flips to the very first pages, sliding it over to Al-Haitham. “Dendro is very good at storing information—not as good as leyline energy but good enough for the Akasha’s purposes. It’s where the phrase ‘the forest will remember’ comes from—because the dendro energy in the forest literally remembers.”

Al-Haitham raises a brow. “That’s not a phrase, Kaveh.”

“What are you talking about? It definitely is.” Kaveh shoots Al-Haitham an annoyed look and shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter. Point is, dendro energy is good at storing information, which is also why it’s hard to unlearn something the Akasha has told you.

“The second reason is it’s easy to store and transfer dendro energy.” Kaveh traces a weaving line between Sumeru City and Port Ormos, crossing through miles and miles of forests. “Dendro collects and transfers itself via plants, with trees being the best at storing and sending it. Say I had to pass a message from Sumeru City to Port Ormos. There’s plenty of shrubbery and plant life to support the connection. In a way, Sumeru’s forests are the dendro equivalent of the leyline energy’s leyline channels.”

Al-Haitham nods, crossing his arms. “So that’s why the Akasha can’t work in the sea, and why you used leyline energy to support the transfer.”

Kaveh’s grin widens. “Yes!” he says excitedly. “There’s not enough shrubbery and plant life in the oceans to support the Akasha’s connections, especially since this place started as a desert. But, there are leyline channels spanning through all of Teyvat. That’s how Irminsul collects and stores all its memories. So I utilized those channels to send Nahida my message.”

Al-Haitham’s brows furrow.

“Did you feed the mixture into your Akasha?” he asks suddenly, a hard edge to his tone.

“I had to,” Kaveh says. “It’s the easiest way for a message to get transferred to a specific location.”

“And the Akasha accepted it?”

“Leyline energy’s properties are close enough to dendro that the Akasha didn’t reject it, yes.”

“Leyline energy’s properties are similar to all of the seven elements, Kaveh. That’s what makes it transformative,” Al-Haitham deadpans, looking almost disappointed at him. “You could’ve gotten hurt.”

Kaveh sighs.

“Look, I was desperate and willing to take the risk, so I did and it worked out,” he says. “I calculated the ratios five times over before I tried. Nahida’s already given me this talk. I don’t need it from you too.”

Al-Haitham narrows his eyes but says nothing.

“Anyway,” Kaveh continues, ignoring Al-Haitham’s put-out expression, “the Akasha has a specific way of coding information in the dendro dream energy that, according to Nahida, only someone with a connection to Irminsul can understand. But, she’s offered to code any messages for us.” From his pocket, Kaveh procures a jar of fluorescent green, viscous energy. “This is all pre-coded dendro dream energy that Nahida gave me yesterday. We’re gonna use this to experiment with the ratios of leyline energy to dendro energy.”

Al-Haitham nods, staring at the jar as Kaveh sets it on the table. “Was the reason your message was nonsense because you fed uncoded dendro energy, or because the pure leyline energy disrupted the transmission?”

Kaveh shrugs, gathering his vials of leyline energy.

“Not sure. Gotta test that out first.”

“Do you know the upper safety bound of leyline to dendro?”

“I did some calculations in the very back yesterday. You can check them if you’d like. Mehrak.” He turns. The suitcase beeps. “Do you have any empty vials, by chance?”

Mehrak boops, handing Kaveh an empty vial.

“The calculations seem right,” Al-Haitham says. “We should start with your successful ratio first, then begin lowering the amount of leyline energy.”

“Sounds good.”

Al-Haitham glances at the green jar.

“What message does the coded dendro energy send?”

“That’s for you to find out when we have a successful connection,” Kaveh replies, grinning. Al-Haitham sighs. “Do you have your Akasha Terminal?”

Al-Haitham slips his Terminal out of his pocket and clips it on. The signature leafy green symbol appears over his left ear.

Kaveh carefully uncorks the leyline energy and pours the set amount into his empty vial. Then, he manipulates Nahida’s dendro energy into the vial, swirling the mixture until it turns light green. He feeds it into his Terminal and hears the static of the message being processed.

Across from him, Al-Haitham winces.

“I’m guessing it didn’t send?”

“No.”

Kaveh grabs a pencil and his notebook, flipping to the last pages and scribbling down notes.

“So the leyline energy does affect the message then,” he mutters.

“Less leyline energy this time around,” Al-Haitham says.

“Got it.”

They try again. Again, Kaveh hears the same static, and again, Al-Haitham winces at the sound.

“You sure you want to continue doing this?” Kaveh asks after their fifth trial with the same static sounds being passed between their Terminals. “If the static is bothering you too much, I can go ask Cyno for help or something.”

Al-Haitham raises a brow. “I wasn’t aware you considered me so intolerant.”

“You literally created soundproof headphones to block out all the ‘meaningless noise’ you hear,” Kaveh drawls, mixing yet another dendro-leyline combination. “Don’t pretend you aren’t intolerant.”

“This is barely anything worth crying about,” Al-Haitham dismisses. “You were plenty louder on a daily basis when we were at the Akademiya than the static you’ve been sending.”

Kaveh scowls, throwing Al-Haitham a dirty look.

“If I was so loud, why did you stick around then?” he grumbles under his breath.

“You provided a view of the world that I never would have considered,” Al-Haitham answers, startling Kaveh. “I stuck around with you to prevent stagnation as a scholar. We become complacent if we do not face some amount of pushback.” He gives Kaveh a pointed look, hands mindlessly flipping through Kaveh’s notebook as he has been for the past hour. “Have you forgotten that already, Kaveh?”

Kaveh blinks and bites the inside of his cheek. He looks away.

“No. I haven’t.”

Al-Haitham’s eyes feel like scorch marks on his face. Kaveh gently swirls their newest trial, hand clenching tighter around the vial.

“So your memory hasn’t begun fading with your age then.”

Kaveh whips his head, indignation lighting itself in his gut. Al-Haitham has his gaze focused on his notebook, a finger lightly skimming the lines.

“What the—!”

“Start the next trial, Kaveh.”

Kaveh glares. “Brat,” he mutters under his breath. Al-Haitham snorts.

They run a few more trials with increasingly lower ratios. None of them work. But they do find the lower bound of leyline energy needed to transfer the message.

In Kaveh’s Terminal, he hears a distorted version of the message Nahida coded. He stares at Al-Haitham, who merely raises a brow at him.

“Did you send the message?” he asks.

Kaveh stares. And stares, and stares.

He swears he’s going to throttle something.

“We found the lower bound of leyline energy needed,” Kaveh says in lieu of an answer.

“Oh.”

For a moment, neither of them moves. Then, Al-Haitham takes Kaveh’s pencil and notes down the results.

“I suppose we’re back to the drawing board,” Al-Haitham says, scanning through Kaveh’s notes for the nth time.

“I guess…” Kaveh says. He crosses his arms, eyes raised towards the ceiling. “Is leyline energy not the answer then? Is there something wrong with our procedure? Should we use a different form of energy?”

“Mixing the other forms of energy won’t work. They aren’t compatible and react too intensely. This is basic Spantamad knowledge.”

“But maybe we can purify it.”

“We only have pyro and electro to test with then, and I’d rather not burn down this ship or blast everyone off,” Al-Haitham counters. “You were right to choose leyline energy. As dangerous as it was, it was quite ingenious.”

Kaveh stops.

“Uh, thanks…” he says awkwardly.

Al-Haitham hums.

Kaveh watches the other curiously, then sits down on one of the chairs around the table. He grabs a scrap piece of paper and pencil and starts doodling on the page in between jotting down thoughts. He hears the scritch-scratch of another pencil next to him and glances to his left, watching Al-Haitham do essentially the same thing on a blank page in his notebook.

For a good five minutes, the only sound in the room is pencil against paper and occasionally, Al-Haitham’s mindless mutterings.

Then, Kaveh hears the thud of a pencil and catches Al-Haitham suddenly standing from his seat.

“It’s the timing.”

“What?”

“We’re looking to preserve the original dendro code while still having a certain amount of leyline energy in. Leyline energy is transformative.”

Kaveh’s eyes widen.

“Oh my gods.”

“The longer we let the leyline energy interact with the dendro energy, the more of it will transform to mimic the dendro code,” Al-Haitham says. “We need to wait longer.”

“How long do you think?”

Al-Haitham furrows his brows. “Leyline energy transforms on an exponentially decreasing curve. Let’s try the initial ratio you had and increase the time from there.”

So they try fifteen seconds, then thirty, then forty-five. Each time, the message becomes less and less distorted.

When they reach the two-minute mark, Nahida’s pre-coded message is clear as day to Kaveh—as if there hadn’t been any added leyline energy at all. He stares at Al-Haitham, who immediately levels him with a dry look.

“Did you honestly ask Nahida to code that message?” Al-Haitham asks, thoroughly unimpressed.

Kaveh beams.

“Hey, if this ever gets recorded in the history books, then I want the first message ever sent on the sea to be a special one,” he says, his smile practically stuck on his face. “So, what was the message, Al-Haitham?”

“‘I love you, Nahida’,” Al-Haitham recites monotonously.

Kaveh’s smile becomes impossibly large.

“We should run a few more trials to make sure this procedure is reliable,” he says, trying to temper his excitement as Al-Haitham notes down the results. He starts pacing the room if only to rid himself of the extra energy buzzing in him. “Maybe run a few with lower amounts of leyline energy too for conservation's sake. Or we could try to see how long the reach is and if we’re able to access the whole system. What do you think, Al-Haitham?”

He looks up and just barely catches the smile Al-Haitham sends his way. It’s a small thing, quiet and unassuming—a simple quirk of his lips—and yet, it makes Kaveh give pause.

“What’s got you smiling like that?” he asks.

Al-Haitham shakes his head. The smile persists. “Nothing. Let’s continue with the trials. I wouldn’t be surprised to find your technique was a mere fluke.”

Kaveh stares, and splutters in pure indignation.

“Kaveh.”

Someone roughly shakes his shoulders. He starts, looking around to find the room dark, no sounds but that of the waves crashing against the hull. He looks down, seeing his Terminal along with everyone else’s Terminals. Next to him, vials of leyline energy sit, corked and neatly stacked together.

He doesn’t remember stacking them like that.

“What happened?” he asks, the words gummy and numb on his lips. He turns, seeing Al-Haitham leaning over him, the room too dark for him to see his expression.

“You fell asleep,” he hears Al-Haitham say. “Go to bed.”

“Ah, wait, wait. I have… I have something due soon. I need to finish modifying these. They’re due,” Kaveh protests weakly, pulling against Al-Haitham’s grip.

“You can do them tomorrow.” Al-Haitham nudges Kaveh off his seat, guiding him towards the door. “It’s too late for you to be working with such dangerous substances.”

“But—”

“Kaveh.”

Kaveh groans under his breath. He leans petulantly against Al-Haitham but the other does not budge, much to his annoyance.

The two of them shuffle to the infirmary. Al-Haitham drops him on the bed and Kaveh wheezes at the sudden impact.

“Jerk,” he grumbles, shifting so he’s pressed up against the wall. He hears Al-Haitham laugh, a short exhale that could almost be mistaken for a simple breath.

“Go to sleep, Kaveh,” he says, his tone just faintly familiar, like a faraway dream.

Kaveh is sitting in a vibrant grassy field, the sun shining down and adhigama trees surrounding him in every direction. Above him, the sky is clear—puffy, white clouds lazily passing by.

A small hand presses against his chest, pushing him down onto the grass.

“Go back to sleep, Kaveh,” Nahida murmurs, amusement in her tone. “No wonder Al-Haitham worries for you.”

Kaveh closes his eyes, and the dream fades.

Chapter Text

“Something’s wrong with the rounds.”

Kaveh looks up from the plate of dried fruits and crackers one of the crew had offered him. He straightens from where he’s been leaning against the railing, raising a brow as Cyno walks up onto the deck.

“What rounds?”

“The matra rounds,” Cyno says, crossing his arms with a furrowed brow. In one of his hands is a stack of papers with notes scribbled across the margins. “The matra ship we sank this morning has a different log of the rounds than what we’ve been seeing.”

“You sank a matra ship this morning?!” Kaveh demands, incredulous. “Where was I?”

“Asleep. Nahida was watching over you,” someone says behind him. Kaveh turns, spotting Al-Haitham next to the door leading to the Captain’s quarters. Al-Haitham glances at him before meeting eyes with Cyno. “Dehya’s asking for us.”

Cyno nods, striding towards the door.

“Dehya’s asking for you too, Kaveh,” Al-Haitham calls out. Kaveh blinks at him in surprise and hurries over.

“I thought you were against me getting too involved.”

“Dehya asked for you,” Al-Haitham says dully. “She’s the captain of this ship.”

Kaveh snorts. “Smart man.”

He and Al-Haitham enter the room. Nahida is the only one sitting in one of the chairs around the table. The rest of the ragtag team is standing around the table, pouring over a map of Sumeru’s ocean and coast.

Dehya looks up, an uncharacteristically serious look on her face.

“What happened?” Kaveh asks, glancing at the map, then the stack of papers still in Cyno’s hands.

“The rounds for the matra ships have changed,” Dehya says. “Cyno’s outlining them on the map now.”

“There are more ships stationed for the weekly visit to the Sanctuary of Surasthana,” Cyno clarifies, not looking up from the map. “The ships moving between what I assume to be where the Village Keepers are and where the Inazuman Royal is haven’t changed in number though.”

“Why are there more ships heading for the Sanctuary of Surasthana?” Paimon asks, floating over to the map.

“That’s what I’m wondering,” Cyno says, placing a hand on his chin. “The amount of ships makes me believe someone important is planning on visiting the island this week which could be bad news for us.”

“Could it be Grand Sage Azar?” Paimon asks.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if it was,” Cyno says. “Al-Haitham and I disappearing a week apart from each other has likely aroused plenty of suspicion in him, especially with the Sabzeruz Festival in between our departures.”

“It could be one of the other sages as well,” Al-Haitham points out. “If it is Azar, it doesn’t make sense why he would isolate himself on the sea with no connection to the Akasha System.”

Cyno nods. “I’m more inclined to believe it’s Azar with the number of ships assigned to the trip, but it would be nice to have some confirmation.” He glances at Nahida, then Kaveh. “Do you think the two of you could search the Akasha for any news on that, Nahida, Kaveh?”

Kaveh hesitates.

“I’ll try my best, but I’m not sure how much access I have to the Akasha System this far out,” he admits. “There’s also the problem of clearance. I’m definitely barred from accessing that sort of information.”

“If it’s any help, you can use my Terminal.” Cyno crosses his arms and says, “I’m not sure if they’ve cut me off from the System, but it doesn’t hurt to try.”

“Mine as well,” Al-Haitham says.

“Actually,” Nahida starts, eyes meeting Kaveh’s, “I can help you bypass the clearance.”

Kaveh blinks. “Seriously?”

Nahida nods. “Since the Akasha System runs only on dendro energy and its coding, anyone who understands the code has full control of the System. Because of my understanding of Irminsul, I can do anything on the System, including impersonate someone’s Terminal.”

Kaveh gapes and huffs out an incredulous laugh. “That’s great! That’s amazing!” He grins. “Then, if I truly have access to all of the System, it should be fine.”

“Good.” Cyno nods.

“Yay Nahida and Kaveh!” Paimon cheers.

“Ah, speaking of Terminals,”—Kaveh reaches for his pocket, taking out six Akasha Terminals—“I finished modifying all of them after I woke up. You can have them back, but I would still only send messages if you have to. I only had so much leyline energy left to divide amongst everyone.”

“Oh, Kaveh, you need leyline energy?” Paimon asks. “Lumine has an infinite reserve of that!”

Kaveh’s brows furrow. He turns to the blonde traveler. “You do?”

“Yes! She regenerates one every eight minutes!”

“What—how?” Kaveh splutters. “And what do you mean ‘one’? One what?”

Lumine smiles cryptically. “Don’t question it. I would be happy to top everyone’s Terminals though.”

“Having the Akasha System at our disposal will be useful for when we’re all separated,” Cyno adds. He glances at Kaveh. “I assume Al-Haitham has shared with you our current plan?”

Kaveh nods.

“Good.” He glances between the two of them. “I’m glad you two have come to an agreement then.”

“Yeah, it was getting real tense whenever the two of you were together,” Dehya says. “In more ways than one.”

Al-Haitham raises a brow. Kaveh coughs. Cyno clears his throat.

“If Azar is truly on one of the ships planned to make a trip to the Sanctuary, we’ll have to change plans,” Cyno says, bringing the conversation back on track. “Kaveh, Nahida, why don’t the two of you get started searching in the System? We’ll regroup before the day’s over and figure out what our next steps are from there.”

Kaveh nods. He offers a hand to Nahida who takes it immediately.

“Nahida,” Kaveh starts once they’ve reached the infirmary and he has his notes spread out around him again, “how did I not wake up when the others were sinking a gods damn matra ship?”

“I was told to make sure you stayed asleep and that you stayed up late last night working on everyone’s terminals,” Nahida says, not looking up from the holographic screen she formed using her dendro. “Al-Haitham told me a rested mind is a scholar’s best asset, and I have to agree with him.”

“So Al-Haitham was the one who put you up to it,” Kaveh grumbles, watching lines of script flow across the holographic screen, too quick for him to comprehend.

“Are you surprised?”

“Not at all.”

“You don’t seem angry this time though,” Nahida comments, glancing at Kaveh with a curious expression.

Kaveh sighs. “No, I’m not.”

“Why?”

He shifts in his spot on the floor and lowers his gaze, tracing random shapes into the wood.

“I wasn’t ever actually… angry with Al-Haitham. Or at least, not because he cared about my safety,” Kaveh admits quietly. “It was more of a… defense mechanism. If I’m angry with Al-Haitham, then we can’t get close like we were before.” He exhales and presses his hands into the wood just to feel grounded in something. “Al-Haitham is not the type to pull back any of his punches for the sake of someone’s feelings. He doesn’t care about such things. But for him to care about my safety…”

“You associate risk with being vulnerable with Al-Haitham again,” Nahida says gently.

Kaveh nods, laughing wryly. “It sounds a little pathetic when you say it like that.”

“It’s not pathetic.” Nahida leans to the side, eyes meeting Kaveh without her dendro screen blocking them. “You were hurt by him. It’s human nature to avoid things that once brought us pain.”

“I suppose,” Kaveh murmurs, “but… it wasn’t like I was innocent in the whole event. I said some mean things to Al-Haitham too. I hurt him too. And yet, here he is, still caring for my safety as if we hadn’t stopped talking for years.”

“Comparing you and him is like comparing a jueyun chili with a zaytun peach,” Nahida says, frowning slightly.

“Maybe, but it doesn’t change the fact that I’m not innocent in this, or that I’ve been unfair to him,” Kaveh says.

Nahida tilts her head, staring at Kaveh like she’s trying to discern his innermost feelings. Kaveh can’t find it in him to continue meeting her gaze.

“You say you don’t want to get close with Al-Haitham,” Nahida starts, “but here you are, caring for his feelings in the same way he is caring for your safety.”

Kaveh stares. His hands unconsciously curl into fists.

“Perhaps things are complicated now because the two of you are forced to stay civil in such close quarters,” Nahida starts, offering Kaveh a sympathetic smile, “but after this is over, if you do not want to see him again, you do not have to. And the way you acted towards him will be forgotten by both of you in due time.

“To me, though, it sounds like there’s a guilty part of you that still misses Al-Haitham and the relationship you two used to have.” She moves back to her screen. The same script starts running across once more. “And a lot of your hesitance seems to stem from a belief that you don’t know him anymore, which I don’t think is true given what you’ve told me.

“I don’t know what you two have said to each other, but if you want to rebuild that bridge with him, it might be best for both of you to lay all your cards on the table,” Nahida says, so very softly. “As nerve-wracking as that might be, honesty is to a relationship what a well-rested mind is to a scholar.”

Kaveh doesn’t respond. The lines on Nahida’s holographic screen suddenly stop. The light green screen compresses in on itself and turns into a knowledge capsule.

“Here.” Nahida gently hands the knowledge capsule to Kaveh, an encouraging smile on her face. “This should let you bypass the clearance bars.”

“How does this work?” he asks, grateful for the topic change Nahida offers him.

“All Terminals have a tag that helps identify one from another, like how your name is Kaveh, which helps identify you from others around you,” Nahida says. “This tag is attached to all energy sent from your Akasha so the System knows to relay information back to your specific Terminal. If I give you Azar’s tag temporarily, all your questions will be as if Azar himself has asked them, allowing you to pass through any clearance bars.”

“That makes sense,” Kaveh says. “But won’t the information just be relayed to Azar’s Terminal then?”

“I’ll track the energy released from your Terminal to ensure that doesn’t happen,” Nahida assures. A map of Sumeru appears between the two of them then, holographic like the screen, “but the code itself should naturally disintegrate by the time the information is retrieved, leaving only your tag once the information starts making its way back.”

“I see.” Kaveh watches Nahida’s hands hover over the map of Sumeru and breathes quietly. “Should I feed your code into my Terminal now then?”

“Yes. Whenever you’re ready.”

He carefully touches the capsule to his Terminal, waiting until the capsule has disappeared. Kaveh glances at Nahida, who gives a single nod.

“Say your thoughts out loud so I know where to start tracing the energy,” Nahida says.

“Okay.” Kaveh closes his eyes. “Give me Azar’s Akasha history.”

He glances down and sees points of light running across the map Nahida generated. Nahida waves a hand over them, brows pinched. The lights pause, then retrace their movements until they coalesce back into one point. His Akasha’s interface flickers and a long list appears in front of his eyes. He scans through the list of commands and furrows his brows.

“He has a lot of recent messages sent to the matra about the Sanctuary, but most of his searches are for the same thing in his history,” Kaveh comments. “Nahida, do you know what RKH is?”

Nahida’s head whips up.

“RKH?”

Kaveh nods.

“Those are my sister’s initials,” Nahida says, leaning forward. “She used to sign her notes with RKH. What is he doing with my sister’s notes?”

Kaveh clicks through the searches, lips pressed in a thin line.

“Something about collecting and dispersing dendro energy,” Kaveh says. “It looks like Greater Lord Rukkhadevata had some sort of prototype she was working on and Azar was looking through the diagrams of it.”

He glances at Nahida, watching her expression twist and her frown grow.

“You good?” he asks softly.

“He shouldn’t be able to look through my sister’s notes on the Akasha,” Nahida murmurs, a certain edge to her voice that he’s never heard before. “She never uploaded them to the System, which means he uploaded her work himself.” She wraps her arms around herself and bites her lip.

“I understand.” He extends his hand, reaching out to take Nahida’s. “It’s her intellectual property. He doesn’t have the right to distribute it.”

Nahida nods, squeezing his hand tightly. “And to use it for such means too.” She exhales harshly. “If it’s the device I’m thinking of, my sister was developing it to help spread the Akasha System to the sea for Aaru Village and the other eremites.”

“I can send the notes over for you to check yourself, Nahida,” Kaveh offers.

She nods. He transfers the files over, watching her eyes grow darker.

“It is most certainly her design.”

“How would it have worked?”

“It would’ve stored dendro energy and intermittently dispersed it in a certain area. She was hoping to spread them around the sea to form pseudo-dendro channels.” Nahida scans through the files, a serious frown still stuck on her face. “When did Azar first access these files?”

“About a week back,” Kaveh says. “But that’s only when he accessed them via the Akasha. Who knows how long he’s been pouring over these files.”

Nahida nods. “Then we should assume he should have access to the Akasha System if he is visiting the Sanctuary.”

Kaveh frowns.

“Let me check the most recent matra rounds,” Kaveh says.

The points of light appear on Nahida’s map again. They flicker and coalesce faster than Kaveh can track with his eyes this time around. The Akasha interface flickers with all the matra’s names, personal information, and assignments. Kaveh stares at the information and awkwardly shifts.

“This is so illegal,” he mumbles. “Archons, this is so, so illegal. You won’t throw me into jail for this right, Nahida?”

“I am encouraging this,” Nahida says, lips quirking up. “So, of course not.”

“There’s too much information here to parse through. I have no idea what I’m looking at,” Kaveh admits. “I think we should have Cyno look at this.”

“Let’s tell everyone to regroup then,” Nahida suggests. “I believe we also have our answer about Azar as well.”

Kaveh knocks on the door to the Captain’s quarters and opens, stopping when he sees everyone already settled around the table.

“Uh…” he hesitates. “Is now a good time?”

“If you have info on Azar, any time is a good time,” Dehya says, gesturing to the two empty chairs left.

“We were able to access the Akasha System just fine,” Nahida says, walking towards the table. “Azar seems to have found my sister’s notes on a prototype she was developing to allow the eremites access to the Akasha System.”

Dehya raises her brow. “The Greater Lord was developing something like that?”

Nahida nods. “It was always my sister’s intent to allow everyone in Sumeru access to the Akasha. She just never got around to building the infrastructure necessary for it.”

Dehya narrows her eyes. “I see.”

“This does mean that if Azar is planning on visiting the Sanctuary, he will likely be visiting with access to the Akasha System,” Nahida continues. “Which brings me to why we’re here. Kaveh and I just retrieved the records on the matra rounds, but we thought Cyno would be better equipped to glean the necessary information from it.”

“Send them to me,” Cyno says.

Kaveh nods. Cyno’s Terminal flickers. His brows raise immediately.

“These look like files I’d receive and make myself for the matra,” Cyno says, eyes shifting like he’s reading through an invisible pamphlet. He narrows his eyes.

“What? What’s going on, Cyno?” Paimon asks.

“Give me a moment.” Cyno raises a hand and frowns. “It looks like Azar will be on one of the ships heading for the Sanctuary in a few days.”

Paimon gasps. Dehya curses.

“But, with these files, I know exactly where the Village Keepers are being kept and where Kunikuzushi’s being experimented on.” Cyno looks up, a grim expression on his face. “We should start heading to the island where the Village Keepers are immediately.”

Dehya nods. “Noted, I’ll send a message to Rahman as soon as this meeting is over. Just let me know where the island is.”

Cyno nods.

“If he has access to the Akasha System, he might be able to notify all of the matra as soon he finds Nahida isn’t in the Sanctuary!” Paimon exclaims.

“It’ll make it harder for us to move if all the matra are aware of Nahida’s disappearance.” Dehya glances at Al-Haitham, Cyno, and Kaveh. “Having two high-profile Akademiya employees and a wanted man on the ship won’t help our chances of going by unnoticed either.”

“Then we must intercept him before he makes it to the Sanctuary,” Cyno says. “Dehya, do you think we’ll make it on time?”

Dehya crosses her arms, a complicated furrow on her brow. “Show me which island the Village Keepers are being kept.”

Cyno points to one of the smaller islands just off the coast of Port Ormos, a little farther than the Sanctuary of Surasthana. Dehya breathes a sigh of obvious relief.

“We’ll make it,” Dehya assures. “We’ll set course for the island and wait for Rahman there. Although, it does make me wonder why they keep the Village Keepers so far from Aaru Village.”

“It’s easier for the matra to monitor if it’s closer to Port Ormos,” Cyno says. “Too close to Aaru Village and that’s you and your people’s territory. It’s too risky. Azar and the other sages know this.”

“We’ll have to switch tactics then, now that we’re no longer holding a coup in the Akademiya but on a matra ship,” Al-Haitham says, crossing his arms.

Cyno nods. “We’ll start tonight.”

“Kaveh?” Kaveh flinches, glancing down at Nahida looking up at him with worried eyes. “What’s on your mind?” she asks.

“It’s… nothing,” he assures. “I just… I don’t understand why Azar is visiting the Sanctuary of Surasthana. The risks are much higher in the ocean than in the Akademiya for him. What does going there prove to anyone?”

“He’s gotten cocky.” Kaveh looks up, meeting Al-Haitham’s gaze. “I believe with Greater Lord Rukkhadevata’s prototype, he’s gotten arrogant knowing he has the Akasha System to fall back on.”

“Making a personal visit to the Sanctuary may also be for publicity’s sake,” Cyno says. “With the matra’s testimonies, he could spin Nahida’s escape as a kidnapping instead. And if Azar is the one who declares Nahida has been kidnapped and sends the matra after the eremites, he’ll be seen as an avenger of the forgotten Ruler of Sumeru.”

Kaveh goes quiet.

“We have to make it to him before he makes it to the Sanctuary,” Paimon insists.

“And we will, Paimon. I promise you,” Dehya says. “But we need a plan.”

Al-Haitham nods.

“Shall we get started, then?” Nahida asks.

“You didn’t go to bed last night.”

Kaveh looks up from his notes, watching Al-Haitham make his way across. Dehya had been nice enough to move a table and chair in one of the empty food storage rooms, allowing Kaveh the privacy and space needed to continue his modifications on the Akasha.

He doesn’t think he’s left the room since the meeting adjourned, and with the lack of windows, he has no idea what time it is.

Kaveh rubs his eyes and frowns.

“What do you mean? Is it already morning?”

The scowl on Al-Haitham’s expression is jarring. Kaveh doesn’t think he’s seen such a strong emotion on his face in years.

“It’s almost dinner time, Kaveh,” Al-Haitham says, stalking towards him. “Have you had anything to eat since last night?”

He frowns.

“I think… Innam came and gave me a plate of something,” Kaveh says, the words trailing off toward the end. “I don’t remember.”

“You don’t remember,” Al-Haitham deadpans, a simmering heat in his tone that Kaveh used to recognize as trouble. “You don’t remember when you last ate.”

“Uh, no. I don’t,” he says, raising a brow.

“Are you an idiot?”

Kaveh startles. The glare on his face is immediate.

“Look, I’m sorry, but I’ve been working on the Terminal modifications we agreed upon last night,” he says, annoyance lighting itself in his gut. “A lot of our plan is riding on my abilities to modify the Akasha and I’m stuck. I need to figure this out and get it done.”

“You won’t get anything done in the sorry state you’re currently in.”

Kaveh scoffs. “Then what would you have me do? Should I sleep for ten hours, work from nine to five, and get you your modified Terminal in three to six business days? We don’t have that kind of time.”

“Listen to yourself,” Al-Haitham says, eyes narrowing. “I shouldn’t have to explain to you the importance of taking care of yourself.”

“Then don’t,” Kaveh snaps. “I’m an adult. I know how to take care of myself. I’m fine.”

“If this is your definition of taking care of yourself, then I’m afraid the Akademiya needs to re-evaluate their definition of ‘genius.’”

“Great. I always hated the Akademiya’s label of genius. Maybe they should reconsider the whole construct while they’re at it. You should scribe that idea down for a later date and leave me alone.”

“Kaveh.” Al-Haitham leans over his notes, a hand on the small table with Mehrak and all his tools and the Akasha Terminal he’s been finicking with the past few hours. “I am asking you to take care of your health. This should not be such an uphill battle.”

“And I’m telling you, I’m fine,” Kaveh insists harshly. “I don’t have the time for this.”

“If you don’t have time to take care of yourself,” Al-Haitham insists, voice infuriatingly flat, “then who does?”

“I don’t see why this matters in the current scheme of things when we’re literally about to hold a coup against our government. There are frankly more important priorities at the moment.”

“And I don’t see how you can claim your health isn’t an important priority at the moment, Kaveh,” Al-Haitham says. “You are burning yourself out. Haven’t you learned anything from the last time we had this argument?”

Kaveh bristles.

“Why are you bringing that up?” he demands. “Do you want me to admit you were right all those years ago or something? Is this some sort of competition to you still?”

“I’m asking you to reflect on what you’re doing.”

“And I’m telling you I’m fine. I’ll get this Terminal modified and it’ll be fine. You’re wasting my time right now,” Kaveh argues, standing suddenly. The chair legs screech against the wooden floors. “We aren’t friends anymore, Al-Haitham. Why do you care?”

“It should be obvious why I care,” Al-Haitham states. “How is it that you have so much kindness to spare for others but none for yourself?”

“This has nothing to do with kindness!” Kaveh snaps. “This is about me having less than two days to figure out how to reprogram our previous Ruler’s greatest invention. I’m sorry I’ve been stressed out of my mind trying to figure this out and let a few things slip today.”

“Then you should’ve asked for help.”

“From who? Everyone else has their own issues to deal with. This is the least I can do.”

“The least you could’ve done was take care of yourself so others didn’t have to. And yet, here you are,” Al-Haitham retorts. “And if nothing else, you could’ve asked me.”

His mind screeches to a halt. Kaveh stops, pausing in his steps. “You?”

“Yes. Me.” Al-Haitham straightens, crossing his arms. “I thought you wanted us to work on this together. Have you changed your mind already?”

“No—no, no. I just… I thought—” he stops, all the anger draining out of him—leaving him empty. Kaveh blinks against the pressure in his eyes and presses his palms to them. “I don’t know what I thought.”

He hears Al-Haitham sigh.

“Go get something to eat,” he says, softening his tone. “I’ll look over your notes and catch myself up.”

“Yeah… yeah. Okay.” He lowers his hands, catching Al-Haitham staring at him, lips pressed into a thin line. Kaveh bites the inside of his cheek and says, so softly, “Thank you.”

“Thank me by taking better care of yourself,” Al-Haitham murmurs, staring a moment too long at Kaveh before turning to his notebook.

Kaveh mutely nods.

Al-Haitham glances up.

“We’ll figure it out,” he promises quietly, firm and steady.

Kaveh takes a deep breath and exhales shakily.

“Okay.”

Kaveh is sitting in a vibrant grassy field, the sun shining down and adhigama trees surrounding him in every direction. Above him, the sky is clear—puffy, white clouds lazily passing by.

He feels his head pound from the bright sunlight and closes his eyes, lowering himself on the grass. He moves his arm to cover his face, a low groan coming unbidden from him.

“You didn’t sleep last night,” a voice says next to him, sounding disappointed.

Kaveh turns his head, peeking out from under his arm. Nahida is laying on her side next to him, head pillowed by her arms and a slight frown to her expression.

“Not you too, please,” Kaveh pleads quietly. “I’ve already gotten this lecture from Al-Haitham.”

Nahida sighs. “For good reason.”

“It’s been a stressful few hours,” he says, as if it justifies anything, “and things are only getting started. We still have to pull everything off.”

“Which is precisely why, during times like these, taking care of yourself becomes imperative,” Nahida answers, slightly admonishing.

“I know. But it needed to be done.”

The girl purses her lips and turns so she’s lying flat on her back. Kaveh lowers his arm from his face.

“Thank you for all of your efforts,” she says quietly.

Kaveh smiles. “Of course, Nahida.”

She reaches out, takes his hand, and squeezes it in hers.

“Al-Haitham told me you were having trouble with the Akasha,” she says.

Kaveh makes a face. “When did he do that?”

“A few minutes after you fell asleep.” Nahida spreads his fingers apart and asks, “What’s going on?”

Kaveh lets his eyes trace Nahida’s face and sighs, long and slow.

“I’m having trouble figuring out when an Akasha Terminal is being used,” he admits. “Given the details of our plan, I think it’s best if I disrupt the message before it enters the channels.”

“That makes sense.”

Kaveh nods. “If I use the leyline-dendro energy mixture, the leyline energy should be enough to disrupt the original message and still pass on my message. All I would need to do is transfer it to Azar’s Terminal. The only problem is, I would need to know when the message is being sent.”

Nahida taps her chin, lips pursed. She sits up. Kaveh watches her scan her eyes around the surrounding scenery—the grass, the trees, the sky, even the clouds.

“What is it?” Kaveh asks, sitting up too. “What’s wrong?”

Nahida turns to him and grins.

“The Akasha System runs on dendro dream energy, Kaveh,” Nahida starts, her green eyes glittering under the sunlight. “Because of its purity and scarcity, dendro dream energy is often very hard to recognize over all the other purities of dendro energy. But it’s not impossible.

“If someone has had continued exposure to dendro dream energy, they may be able to sense it in the environment, even if just faintly.”

Kaveh’s brows pinch. “What are you saying, Nahida?”

“The Akasha System is powered by dendro dream energy,” she explains, her excitement ramping, “but that isn’t the only place where dendro dream energy is found.”

The furrow in his brows deepens. Kaveh presses his lips together, hand absentmindedly picking at the blades of grass underneath his palms.

Grass. He straightens, eyes scanning the surrounding area.

“Dreams,” Kaveh says faintly, catching the way Nahida’s smile widens. “My dreams with you.”

“Not just your dreams with me, but all of your dreams,” Nahida clarifies. “They are all filled with dendro dream energy. You’ve been exposing yourself to dendro dream energy for weeks.” She takes both of his hands in hers. A green glow emits between her palms. Kaveh feels a sudden rush of warmth wash over him as if he wrapped himself in a blanket—safe and protected. “What do all of your dreams have in common?”

His memories flood him. He thinks of the dream journal he had diligently kept as soon as he started sharing dreams with Nahida; what had he always written into the pages?

“The scenery,” Kaveh says. “This scenery. I always saw this scenery.”

Nahida beams.

“That’s how dendro dream energy manifests to you,” she says. “All you have to do is sense the energy that brings this scenery to mind, similar to how you would use elemental sight.”

Kaveh grins. He squeezes Nahida’s hands.

“Thank you,” he says emphatically. “Archons, thank you. You are a literal godsend.”

Nahida laughs and wraps her arms around him tightly.

“You’re welcome!”

“Al-Haitham.”

Said man grunts, swatting his hand away. Kaveh persists.

“Al-Haitham,” he hisses, shaking his shoulder.

“What?” Al-Haitham asks sharply. His eyes open, squinting at Kaveh grumpily.

It doesn’t take a genius to see he’s angry, but the effect is utterly ruined by how harmless he looks half-asleep—hair tousled and shirt rumpled. His eyes are hazy and tired but glimmering from the light out their window.

Kaveh finds himself missing this sight.

“I’m sorry for everything I said today, last night, yesterday—you know what I mean.” He grabs Al-Haitham’s hand and squeezes. “I know how to disrupt an Akasha’s message. But I need your help testing it out, please.”

Al-Haitham blinks blearily up at him.

“Okay,” he says. He shifts and throws an arm over Kaveh, pulling him back down in bed.

Kaveh sucks in a breath.

“What—”

“Tomorrow,” Al-Haitham mumbles sleepily. He collects Kaveh closer and buries his nose in his hair, arm wrapping itself loosely around Kaveh’s waist. “Go to sleep.”

Kaveh holds his breath, a tightness contracting in his chest. He listens to the way Al-Haitham’s breathing deepens as he falls back asleep and feels the steady thrum of his heartbeat under his hands. Kaveh counts the spaces between Al-Haitham’s exhales, matches the speed of his breathing to the Scribe’s, and easily lulls himself to sleep.

“Rahman, this is Nahida, otherwise known as Lesser Lord Kusanali.” Dehya waves a hand to Nahida and grins at the large, buff eremite captain in her quarters.

“Pleasure to meet you, princess.” Rahman greets. “Hope you’ve enjoyed your life since escape.”

“I have, thank you. And please, call me Nahida,” Nahida says, bowing her head.

“And this is Kaveh,” Dehya says, pointing him out to Rahman from the group of people in her quarters. “He’s been a great help to the team when he’s not arguing with Al-Haitham.”

Kaveh winces. Rahman snorts.

“Understandable. The Scribe has quite the punchable face.”

“Ah…” Kaveh rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “Haha.”

“Charmed,” Al-Haitham drawls. Rahman throws him a wicked grin.

“Alright, alright,” Dehya says, smiling. “We’re running on a tight schedule here so I’ll give you the rundown.” She points out to the island a few miles away with a handful of matra ships docked on the coast. “Our goal is to save the Village Keepers and send the Traveler and Nahida here on their way to that abandoned royal’s island. Since we don’t know what the research center looks from the inside, our only course of action is to overwhelm the few matra ships out at sea and then split up and clear out the center. Rahman, how many of your friends were you able to gather?”

“Two others. We have a total of four ships amongst ourselves.”

Dehya nods. “That should be plenty enough to overwhelm the naval ships they have here, especially with the General Mahamatra on our side.” Cyno nods once. “Cyno here also said the lovely Grand Sage wouldn’t have been able to station too many matra ships on this remote island without looking suspicious, so they should be easy pickings as far as I’m concerned.”

“It’s looking like that from what I can see,” Rahman says, glancing at the coast.

“Good. Once we’re on the island, we’ll split into three groups. Traveler and Nahida, Cyno and I, and Kaveh and Al-Haitham will each join a team and coordinate via our Akasha Terminals.”

Rahman raises a brow and asks, “Those things work out here now?”

“Kaveh here modified them so they do,” Dehya says proudly, hands resting on her hips. “Once we’re all docked, Traveler and Nahida’s group will head for the ports and handle the matra in charge of shipping the Divine Knowledge. The rest of us will storm the entrance. From there, we’ll split up and cover as much ground as we can. Sound good?”

Rahman nods.

“Hopefully in the chaos, Lumine and Nahida can sneak on one of their merchant ships headed for the Inazuman Royal’s island and make their way towards him. Once the Village Keepers have all been saved and accounted for, one ship will sail the Village Keepers back, while the rest of you need to arrive at the Sanctuary by tomorrow afternoon.”

“And what will you and your crew do?” Rahman asks, crossing his arms.

“Intercept Azar on his way to the Sanctuary tomorrow.”

“The Grand Sage gaining his sea legs?” Rahman scoffs. “That’s surprising.”

“Surprising or not, he’s coming—for whatever reason.” Dehya crosses her arms. “It’s important we get this done as soon as possible so all of us have enough time to make it to the Sanctuary. Any questions?”

Rahman shakes his head. “None at all. I’ll send a message to the other ships and give you a signal once everyone’s ready,” he says. “We go at your signal, Dehya.”

Dehya smirks. “Perfect. Pleasure doing business with you, as always, Rahman.”

“Pleasure is all mine.” Rahman grins. He gives the rest of the group a once-over and says amiably, “See all of you on the other side, eh?” before leaving the quarters and shutting the door behind him.

Dehya sits back down in her seat, legs crossed one over the other. “Now, we wait for him to spread the message.”

Kaveh lowers himself back in his chair once everyone else makes for their seats again and clasps his hands together, alternating between squeezing his hands and shaking his leg. He glances next to him and sees Al-Haitham with a book opened in his hands, reading Archons know what.

He sighs.

“Are you nervous?” Kaveh turns back, catching Al-Haitham glance at him from the corner of his eye.

“Are you seriously asking if I’m nervous about rushing into a matra-guarded research center?” Kaveh responds dryly.

“Do you want to switch the groupings, Kaveh?” Cyno asks from across the table. He glances briefly at Al-Haitham before explaining, “I can group with you if you want.”

“It’s okay,” Kaveh assures. “I’ll be fine. This is what we agreed upon.”

Cyno assesses him for a moment more before nodding once. “So long as you’re still comfortable with the arrangement.”

Kaveh takes a breath and nods.

The whole room falls into a tense sort of silence. Kaveh catches Dehya fiddling with her gauntlet and Lumine playing with what looks like a collection of stars in her hands. Paimon floats next to her, frenetically pacing in the air. Cyno is scarily still in his seat, eyes closed and arms crossed, and Nahida is forming different patterns with her dendro, making a chain of people, then an intricate, snowflake-like pattern, then a simplified version of the Sanctuary of Surasthana.

Kaveh breathes, tips his head back, and closes his eyes. He leans down and grabs Mehrak’s handle, letting his hand curl around its familiar grooves.

After what feels like hours later, the door opens again. Innam comes in with a rolled-up slip in her hand. She hands it to Dehya who unfurls the paper, scans the contents twice, and says, “Tell the others to hoist the sails. It’s time to storm the island.”

Paimon squeaks and huddles closer to Lumine. Next to him, Kaveh hears Al-Haitham snap his book shut and stand. He stands as well.

“Are you going to ask me to protect Nahida again?” he asks quietly to Al-Haitham, raising a slight brow.

“It was unsuccessful the first time, so no,” Al-Haitham murmurs back, following the others as they all filed out of the room. “Additionally, this time around, all of us need to be ready to act at a moment’s notice.”

Kaveh nods. As soon as they exit the room, Dehya is barking orders to the eremites as the deck turns into a familiar kind of chaos. The sails are hoisted onto the masts and Kaveh spots people climbing down from the ratlines as those on deck coordinate the angle of the masts, speeding straight for the coast. He turns, spotting Innam again at the wheel and three other ships following them, each bearing a different flag.

“Nahida, it might be best for you to stay below deck so you aren’t spotted or harmed,” Dehya says, turning back to the six of them. “You too, Paimon. You should hide in that sub-space dimension you disappear into.”

“Okay.” Paimon gives Lumine one last hug, before disappearing in a shower of sparks.

“I’ll stay in the infirmary for now then,” Nahida says. She glances at Kaveh—who nods once and offers what he hopes is a reassuring smile—and makes for the steps leading downstairs.

Dehya’s eyes follow Nahida, then return to the four of them.

“Kaveh, you said you can wield a claymore?” Dehya asks.

“Uh, yes.”

Dehya raises a brow. “I’m gonna need a definitive ‘yes’ or ‘no’ here, Kaveh.”

“Yes,” Kaveh says firmly.

“You have a vision?”

“I have a dendro one.”

“Good.” Dehya points to the ropes the crew is tying onto the masts. “You know how to swing on a rope?”

“He’ll come with me,” Al-Haitham says before Kaveh can answer. Dehya narrows her eyes.

“You sure you can handle the both of you?”

“Of course.”

“Fine.” Dehya glances at the ships, then back at them. “We’ll want to take over the ships as fast as possible before the matra can organize themselves. From what I can tell, there are around five ships on the coast, with three of them being matra ships while the other two are merchant. Cyno, is this accurate to the rounds?”

Cyno nods.

“Good. Then the last thing to do is to prepare yourselves. We’ll have the advantage of being prepared and having the numbers, but this will still come down to every one of you.” She meets eyes with them, a softness behind the steel in her gaze. “Come back alive.”

The eremite in the crow’s nest shouts. Kaveh looks forward and sees movement on the island and one of the matra ships hoists its sails.

Dehya glances behind her, then turns back.

“When we dock, Lumine, you grab Nahida. The eremites at the very back of our line with the blue bandanas will have already landed by then and started handling the matra guarding the ports. All you have to do is get the two of you on board safely. Send us a message as soon as you two are on a ship and able. I want the rest of us to regroup in person before we enter the center. Understood?”

“Understood,” Lumine says.

“Good.” Dehya looks back. They have less than a minute before the ships meet. She looks to the skies. “I’m not religious and Nahida isn’t a god, but she’s the closest thing we have to one right now.” With a crooked smile, she says, “May Lesser Lord Kusanali guide us.”

A shout comes from the crow’s nest again. Kaveh turns and catches eremites lining up to the ropes. The bow of the matra ship crosses theirs, and eremites immediately start swinging across the distance. He feels a hand grab his before he’s pulled forward in a run toward the ship's bow.

“We need to deal with the archers,” Al-Haitham whispers. Kaveh hears the whirling of air around him and a flash of green before the scenery clears again.

He lifts his claymore and blocks a spear aimed straight at them, hearing the clang of metal against metal. Kaveh grips the handle and swings wide.

“Mehrak, site clear.” A ring of dendro explodes around him, forcing the matra back. He uses the hilt of the claymore to knock the spear out of the matra’s hands and the flat edge of the blade to push them down.

Kaveh spins and meets the next strike aimed for him. He grits his teeth, infuses his blade with dendro, and uses Mehrak to push the matra back. Kaveh swings down on the spear. The matra blocks. He uses the slight pause to send a pulse of dendro out, tripping the soldier up. Their spear slips and his claymore comes down. Kaveh kicks it back up, hitting the spear out of the matra.

A back presses against his. He hears the clang of metal against metal and sees a familiar black cape.

“If you’re going to disarm them, dispose of the weapon,” Al-Haitham scolds. He lunges towards the matra with his saber. A dendro blade gear swings across, forcing the matra back. Kaveh shoots out his hand and dendro bursts around the matra’s feet, stumbling him. He spins back, blocks the other matra’s strike, and kicks him in the stomach.

“Mehrak!” he calls out. Behind him, he hears the clatter of a spear. The suitcase beeps and a green border wraps around the spear. One quick yank and it’s out of the matra’s hands. Mehrak immediately throws the spear overboard and Kaveh uses the hilt of his weapon to knock the matra out.

He turns back, seeing Al-Haitham with a similarly knocked-out matra. Kaveh raises his gaze and immediately calls Mehrak back while pulling Al-Haitham down. He lifts his claymore just as arrows start raining on them.

“Cover me,” Al-Haitham murmurs, then disappears with a flicker.

Kaveh peeks up the foremast against the arrows, watching Al-Haitham teleport his way up to the fighting top. He scans the area, spotting one of the archers seemingly noticing Al-Haitham’s ascent.

“Mehrak.” Kaveh forms a dendro arrow and throws, letting Mehrak help his aim land true. It grazes the archer’s cheek, startling them. A burst of electro appears behind the archer. Kaveh spots a quick jab of the flat end of a spear and the archer goes down.

He tries to spot Al-Haitham and is forced to roll to the left, narrowly missing a spear thrusted at him. He blocks the next swing and arcs his blade, infusing it with dendro and leaving a green afterimage. An arrow whizzes past, just barely missing him. He turns, seeing Al-Haitham on the fighting top with a knocked-out archer next to him.

Flames light up behind the matra in front of Kaveh. They stumble forward and fall in a heap. Kaveh grips his claymore tighter, relaxing only when he sees Dehya behind the matra, her gauntlet flaming red.

“Help me get to the wheel,” Dehya says, tilting her head towards the quarterdeck.

Kaveh nods and dissipates his claymore. The two of them sprint towards the back of the ship. From his peripheral view, he catches the zigzag motion of electro paired with slower hits of dendro flickering in and out of focus, covering for the two of them.

Violent winds whirl behind him. He chances a glance behind to see Lumine sweeping the matra off their feet, distracting them from him and Dehya.

Dehya jumps, kicking downwards on the matra in front of her. Flames explode from the impact, knocking the soldier out immediately. Kaveh pulls out his claymore and swings, dendro arcing through the air, interacting with Dehya’s pyro burst. He sees Dehya’s own claymore appear as she knocks a spear out of someone’s hands before kicking them down.

They rush up the steps. Kaveh explodes the area around them with dendro as Dehya subdues the captain, taking the wheel of the matra ship.

“Let’s turn this thing around.” She spins the wheel. Kaveh backs near her, eyes scanning sets of stairs. He catches a flicker of green and sees Al-Haitham take the other side of Dehya, white saber held in front of him.

Geo constructs block the matra from running up the quarterdeck. Kaveh glances up and sees Lumine again, parts of her clothing glowing gold.

The ship turns, its bow slowly pointing towards the island. Kaveh ducks under a spear strike and sweeps his claymore flat-side up against the matra in front of him, tripping him. He sends a shockwave of dendro through the floor, effectively knocking the man out.

He looks down the deck. Around them, matra are passed out as the eremites take over and start working the sails of the ship, helping them sail toward the island.

“Dehya, what do you need?” he asks, throwing the matra’s spear overboard.

“Straighten out the masts!” she calls back.

“Mehrak!” Mehrak beeps once in response and latches onto the ropes, pulling the sails.

“Bring all the matra to the prison room on the ship and tie them up,” Dehya orders. “Check the ship for any Village Keepers.”

The remaining eremites not working on manning the ship spread out. Lumine’s geo constructs dissipate and Kaveh skips down the steps, helping carry the unconscious matra below deck.

“Five minutes until we dock. Prepare yourselves!” Dehya yells. Kaveh glances up at the captain, then looks around.

“Who are you looking for?”

He startles, whipping his head to find Al-Haitham next to him, arms crossed and a grim expression on his face. Kaveh exhales.

“I was looking for you,” he says. “We’re supposed to stick together, remember?”

Al-Haitham nods, eyes focused on the island growing larger in the distance. Already, they can hear shouts and cries and the high-pitched screech of metal against metal.

“Has Lumine already returned onto Dehya’s ship?” Kaveh asks.

“Yes. Hopefully, we get a message from her that she and Nahida are ready soon.”

As if on cue, Kaveh’s Terminal displays a message from Lumine saying: with Nahida now. She’s disguised.

Kaveh sighs. “That’s good.”

“One less thing to worry about,” Al-Haitham says.

“Yeah.”

Dehya yells to lower the anchor. Kaveh hears the metallic sounds of a crank. Immediately, eremites start jumping off the deck, swords in hand, running to help their comrades. Kaveh glances back, meets eyes with Dehya and Cyno, and grabs Mehrak and Al-Haitham’s hand. He hears the same whooshing sound and sees the same flash of green before the two of them are down on the coast running for the entrance to the research center.

He feels a familiar back press against his. Kaveh explodes the area in dendro and swings, forcing the matra next to him back. Behind him, he hears what sounds like swords hitting the ground in multiple strikes. Al-Haitham hooks their arms together and they switch positions, Kaveh raising his claymore just in time to block an incoming strike.

He swings over his shoulder, knocking the spear out of the matra’s hands, and hits the soldier down with the flat edge of his claymore. He chances a glance up and sees flames burst on the other side, interspersed with electro. Tiny explosions sound every time both elements get too close, kicking up sand everywhere.

Kaveh turns back and grabs Al-Haitham’s arm, pulling the two of them forward towards the entrance.

“Mehrak!” He hears her beep. His claymore swings to the right while Al-Haitham sends a dendro gear around their left, hindering the matra from getting closer. They’re easily distracted after by the rush of eremites engaging them in a fight.

Kaveh grabs onto his suitcase and hears the whistle of air rushing past once again before a flash of green burns his eyes. He swings his claymore on instinct, startling the two matra at the entrance. Kaveh catches Al-Haitham using the hilt of his sword against the matra closest to him while he himself infuses his claymore with dendro and smacks the other matra on the back, forcing them to the ground.

He looks up and spots Cyno, Dehya, and Rahman making their way to them. Around them, the eremites make quick work of the matra from just numbers alone. Already, some of the eremites have started tying the matra up and confiscating their weapons.

“There really weren’t that many matra guarding the outside,” Kaveh muses, dissipating his claymore. A message suddenly displays itself in his line of sight from Lumine. Kaveh scans the words and breathes a sigh of relief.

“They made it on a ship,” Al-Haitham says, lowering his hand from his terminal. “Things are going well.”

Kaveh nods.

“It looks like this building is two-storied,” Cyno says as soon as he’s within earshot, eyes narrowing as he assesses the entrance. “Dehya, Rahman, and I will take the upper level. You two focus on the lower floor.”

“Fine by me,” Al-Haitham says. Kaveh glances back, watching Dehya and Rahman distribute orders to the other two captains and their crew. The two pirate captains trade words with each other before making their way toward the three of them, weapons out and bodies tense. Behind them, around two-thirds of the eremites follow.

“We’re taking the upper floor,” Cyno says in lieu of a greeting. “Everyone ready?”

Dehya and Rahman both nod once. Cyno glances at him and Al-Haitham.

“Ready,” Kaveh says.

Cyno steps back. His spear crackles with electro. Faster than Kaveh can catch, Cyno rams his spear against the door, utterly destroying the wood. The rest of them file into the center, weapons raised and alert.

The inside of the place is completely deserted, so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Kaveh feels his body tense in anticipation of something. All of them stand in a long hallway with doors on either side. A staircase leading up sits across from them, spiraling up while the hallway splits, leading down either side.

Cyno moves on ahead, eyes jumping everywhere. Kaveh watches him, Dehya, Rahman, and half of the eremites carefully walk up the stairs—all of them coiled like springs ready to fight. Around him and Al-Haitham, the rest of the eremites spread across the hallway, opening doors and entering rooms.

“There’s a Village Keeper here!” one of them immediately yells. He scans his eyes for Al-Haitham and Kaveh and ushers them over.

“One here too!” Kaveh hears another call farther down the hallway.

“In this room too.”

“Here as well.”

He grips Al-Haitham’s hand and the two of them head over to the first eremite who gestured for them. Kaveh peeks inside and sucks in a breath.

In the middle of the room is a chair with a person sitting on it, eyes closed and wearing a standard Akademiya uniform. They have what looks almost like a diadem over their head with tubes connected to the circlet-like piece. Bright, gold-colored fluid seems to be slowly extracting itself out of the person via the tubes and collected into vials.

“Is it safe to take those things off?” Kaveh asks, cautiously stepping into the room. He glances around. A few cabinets hang from the wall and a notebook is left open on the counter like it had been left in a rush. Kaveh narrows his eyes and turns to Al-Haitham.

Immediately, they open all the cabinets in the room.

“If there’s only one entrance into the research center, then the researchers themselves might’ve been told to hide in the center,” Kaveh says. He looks to the eremite. “Tell the others to search the rooms carefully.”

He makes his way to the notebook, quickly flipping through the pages.

“There have to be records on the people they kidnapped and the number of knowledge capsules they sent somewhere,” he murmurs, glancing up to see Al-Haitham examining the headpiece on the unconscious person.

“If the eremites can find a researcher here, we might not need to search for those records ourselves,” Al-Haitham responds. “Let’s wait first.”

Kaveh nods, returning to the notebook again. Most of the writings are observations of the Village Keeper themself—their behaviors, their speech, their reactions to certain energies. None explain much about the headpiece.

A thud suddenly sounds from upstairs. Kaveh looks up, catching from the corner of his eye Al-Haitham turn to the door, saber drawn. The two of them move towards the door and peek down the hallway, seeing Dehya coming down with two others in full research uniforms, Cyno and Rahman flanking them.

Kaveh raises a brow.

“We found the researchers running this center,” Dehya says, gesturing to the two people behind her.

“Oh my gods, it’s the Grand Scribe and—is that the Light of Kshahrewar?” one of them hisses, white as a sheet and shaking.

“We’re doomed,” the other one moans.

Kaveh’s brows raise even higher.

“These two are Morghi and Judar. They are in charge of extracting memories from the Village Keepers,” Cyno explains. “They have a record of all the Village Keepers the matra took from Aaru Village and know how to work the machines.”

“General Mahamatra Cyno, if you’re going to kill us, please kill us quickly,” Morghi pleads, dropping to his knees. He yanks his partner down with him. “We’ll do whatever you say.”

Cyno’s eyes narrow, frown deepening.

“Were you working under orders from Azar?”

Both of them nod desperately.

“Then you aren’t the researchers I’m searching for.”

The pair of researchers’ eyes widen.

“Wait, you’re trying to reprimand Grand Sage Azar?” Judar breathes.

“Do you know what he’s doing then?” Morghi asks.

“We know.” Cyno crosses his arms, frown deepening. “Free the Village Keepers. Make sure all of them are accounted for. You two are free to leave after that.”

Morghi and Judar look as if they’re about to burst into tears. The two of them stand on wobbly knees and instantly begin tearing through the rooms of the center. Kaveh hurries to give them space.

“Your reputation precedes you, Cyno,” Dehya says, a smile on her face.

“It occasionally comes in handy,” Cyno agrees.

Dehya snorts, then turns to the mass of eremites.

“Let’s file out of here and give the researchers some space,” she orders. She meets eyes with Cyno, Al-Haitham, and Kaveh. “Will you three be able to keep an eye on them? Make sure they aren’t doing any funny business?”

“Yes,” Cyno says. Al-Haitham nods.

“Great.” She turns back to the eremites. “Everyone else, prepare to depart. We have wounded to treat and tomorrow to worry about. Out.”

Slowly, the eremites leave the center. Kaveh watches them go, seeing Dehya pull Rahman aside, a severe look on both their faces. He takes a breath and exhales slow.

“You alright, Kaveh?” Cyno asks, eyes still tracking the two researchers moving up and down the stairs. Despite the underlying threat in his very stature, his voice is soft and gentle.

Kaveh sighs.

“Fine, just—worried about tomorrow.”

Cyno nods. “I understand. For now, let’s celebrate that this portion of our plans went well. There will be time to worry about tomorrow later.”

Kaveh purses his lips.

“It’s crucial to dissipate any tension before executing a plan, Kaveh,” Al-Haitham murmurs in his ear. Kaveh throws Al-Haitham a glare.

“Thank you, Sir Scribe,” he grumbles. “Truly, you are just as magnanimous as they say. If only I had known that earlier.”

Al-Haitham’s lips quirk up the slightest bit. Kaveh finds a smile of his own stretching on his face.

One of the Village Keepers stumbles out of her room, eyes wild and hair messy. She turns, a frightened look in her eyes when she sees Cyno.

“W-where… where a-are we… are we going?” she stutters. Her feet trip over themselves and she lurches forward. Kaveh makes to help her, but Cyno is quicker. He gently takes both her arms in his hands, supporting her up. Though his face is as impassive as always when he’s on a job, his eyes are tepid and soft.

“You’re going home,” he says.

Kaveh is sitting in a vibrant grassy field, the sun shining down and adhigama trees surrounding him in every direction. Above him, the sky is clear—puffy, white clouds lazily passing by.

He whips around and beams, pushing up to run towards the girl with white hair tipped green and the brightest green eyes he’s ever seen.

“Nahida!” He collects her in his arms, hearing her tinkling giggles as she returns the hug with just as much fervor in her. He pulls back. “Are you and Lumine okay? Are you safe?”

Nahida nods. “She and I are in her teapot subspace.”

Kaveh’s expression freezes. “What?”

“Apparently, she got it from Liyue. It’s a dimension in a teapot that acts as her home away from home,” Nahida explains. “We’re safe though, and we’ve made it onto Kunikuzushi’s island.”

“Uh, alright. Good to know,” he says hesitantly.

Nahida smiles, and asks, “How did saving the Village Keepers go?”

“They’re all safe, accounted for, and on their way back to Aaru Village,” Kaveh assures. “We’re all currently en route to Azar. Dehya says we’ll probably intercept him sometime early afternoon.”

Nahida bites her lip. She moves closer to Kaveh and hugs him tight.

“Good luck,” she murmurs. “I hope all of you stay safe tomorrow.”

“We’ll be fine,” Kaveh says, even while his stomach flips at the thought of tomorrow. “Same to you too though. You’re about to break into a guarded research center with only two people. Make sure to stay safe, Nahida.”

“Lumine is capable. She’s strong and she’s skilled. It’s hard to be worried with her around,” Nahida says. “But, we will be careful.”

Kaveh nods. “Good.”

With nothing else to say, Kaveh wraps his arms around her tighter, bringing her closer, and pretends that he could shelter them both from the dangers of tomorrow—like the two of them could stay in this little paradise they’ve been escaping to for the past few weeks.

For a long while, neither of them speaks. Kaveh listens to her breathing against his, closing his eyes and pretending this dream could last for as long as he wants.

He is infinitely grateful it was him whose dreams Nahida chose to infiltrate two months ago.

Nahida is the first to pull away, eyes the slightest bit watery and a frown tugging on her lips.

“I have to wake up soon,” she says mournfully. “Lumine wanted us to get an early start to scope things out. Any last words before the dream ends?”

Kaveh pauses, lips pursed in thought.

“Actually,” he starts. “I have a question.”

She nods. “What is it?”

“What made you enter my dreams all those weeks ago?” he asks, pulling back to gauge her expression.

She blinks up at him and laughs, soft and delicate.

“You take your Akasha Terminal off before you go to sleep, don’t you Kaveh?” she asks.

“I do.”

If possible, her smile only seems to grow in size.

“That simple action allowed you to dream,” she says. “And you were one of the few people still dreaming in Sumeru.”

Kaveh struggles against the binds of rope around his wrist, pulling and twisting against them. He looks up, watching Al-Haitham at the wheel.

“Al-Haitham—”

Al-Haitham shushes him harshly. His eyes are cold as he stares at the group of matra ships ahead of them. Kaveh watches Al-Haitham step down onto the deck and lift a wide white flag on the deck, waving it this way and that. He turns his gaze to the ships, watching as one of them seems to notice Al-Haitham, and then suddenly all of them are making their way towards them.

Kaveh narrows his eyes.

Al-Haitham makes his way back up to where Kaveh is. He hauls Kaveh on his feet—one hand gripped on his arm, steadying him.

“Breathe,” Al-Haitham murmurs, barely louder than a whisper. Kaveh nods and takes a deep breath.

The most intricate of the ships comes forward, anchoring parallel to theirs. Kaveh scans the deck, tensing up immediately when he sees all the archers stationed on the ship with every one of their arrows pointed at the two of them.

Someone steps forward from the crowd of archers, a stern expression on his face.

“Identify yourselves,” he orders.

“Al-Haitham of Haravatat,” Al-Haitham says, voice steady and clear, “Grand Scribe of the Akademiya. I have with me Kaveh of Kshahrewar, the Light of Kshahrewar, and a wanted man under the Akademiya.”

One of the matra soldiers runs into the Captain’s quarters. Kaveh glances at Al-Haitham, noting the lack of tension in his body and the almost bored expression on his face.

He takes another breath.

The soldier comes running back and whispers something to the matra with a stern expression. The matra nods once and a gangplank is pushed across, connecting the two ships. Al-Haitham grips Kaveh’s arm and pulls the two of them across. Immediately, a group of matra soldiers flanks them, herding them up the deck into the Captain’s quarters.

Kaveh glances back at Dehya’s ship and flinches when one of the matra raises their spear in warning.

“Head forward,” they order. Kaveh immediately turns his head, exhaling shakily.

They enter the Captain’s quarters. The room is lavishly decorated, seemingly fit for a king with the extravagant furnishings and skilled craftsmanship of the furniture. The matra push them forwards until they’re right in front of the table in front of the window.

On the other side of the table is Azar.

Kaveh discreetly shuffles behind Al-Haitham.

“Al-Haitham,” Azar acknowledges, a gleam in his eyes.

“Grand Sage Azar.” Al-Haitham bows his head, expression perfectly blank.

“You’ve been missing from your post for quite a while now,” Azar says, leaning back in his seat. “Pray tell, what have you been up to?”

“I was kidnapped by a group of pirates headed by the Flame Mane, Lord Azar,” Al-Haitham says. “Only recently was I able to outsmart them and take over their ship.”

“Really?” Azar raises his brow. “Interesting. I received eyewitness reports about two weeks back that you were last spotted with that blonde traveler and the Flame Mane in Port Ormos, willingly boarding onto her ship.”

“Looks can be deceiving, Grand Sage,” Al-Haitham says simply.

Azar hums. His eyes shift over to Kaveh. Kaveh feels himself stiffen.

“And how did you come into possession of the architect responsible for the Palace of Alcazarzaray here?” he asks.

“The Flame Mane and the blonde traveler orchestrated a kidnapping to save the Light of Kshahrewar from arrest,” Al-Haitham answers. “Kaveh of Kshahrewar then became a large player in their schemes and performed treasonous acts against the Akademiya. As such, I thought it best to detain him and bring him to you at the first moment’s notice.”

“Is that so?” Azar asks. “Tell me, what sort of treasonous acts has Kaveh here committed?”

“He is responsible for a few of the sinkings of the matra ships,” Al-Haitham says. “Just this week, he and the Flame Mane have sunk around five matra ships. He has also been in contact with Lesser Lord Kusanali for the last two months and is planning a coup against your rule, Grand Sage.”

“I see.” Azar’s lips press to a thin line. He nods his head to the matra around them. “Guards.”

One of the matra grabs Al-Haitham’s hands, forcing them behind him. Al-Haitham immediately struggles, a flicker of confusion flashing across his face.

“Grand Sage?” Al-Haitham starts. “What is the meaning of this?”

Azar stands, a grim expression on his face.

“A simple process of elimination,” he says, leaning against the table. “You have provided your claims, and I have deduced them to be lies.”

Al-Haitham’s brows furrow.

“If I may ask, why?”

Azar scoffs. “Al-Haitham, as I recall, during your time in the Akademiya, you were lauded as an insufferable genius. Surely you aren’t so dumb as to believe I would’ve taken your words at face value?”

“Everything I said is the truth,” Al-Haitham says.

“Ah, but the Akasha claims there’s a ninety-five percent chance that you are lying at this moment.”

“The… Akasha?” Al-Haitham asks, surprised. “But the Akasha shouldn’t be able to work in the sea.”

Azar clicks his tongue. “Such narrow-minded thinking. I’m disappointed in you, Al-Haitham.” He opens one of the cabinets in the desk and places something down. Kaveh’s eyes narrow.

The object isn’t that big—around the size of a small desk lamp. In the middle is a glowing green sphere that seemed to pulse between shades of green every few seconds, emitting high levels of dendro energy around the room as it does. Around it is a golden frame with wires and tubes wrapping around the sphere, appearing to recollect the dendro energy, purify it, and release it again.

Besides a few modifications, it looked exactly like Rukkhadevata’s prototype.

“Amazing, isn’t it?” Azar asks. “I found this while searching through the late Greater Lord Rukkhadevata’s notes. At the time of her passing, she was working on a prototype that would allow the Akasha to be spread to the seas. I asked a couple of Kshahrewar scholars to look over her notes and build her prototype. This is the result of their work.”

Kaveh bites the inside of his cheek. He spares a glance at Azar’s left ear and spots the flickering of an Akasha Terminal.

“It is impressive,” Al-Haitham says.

“Yes. Our Greater Lord was quite an impressive scholar. It’s a shame she died so young.” For a brief moment, Kaveh swears he sees the lingerings of grief on Azar’s face. It disappears as soon as Azar meets Al-Haitham’s gaze. “What do you have to say for yourself, Al-Haitham?”

“Ninety-five percent is only an estimate, Grand Sage,” Al-Haitham says. “I swear I am telling the truth—”

“Do you truly think so lowly of me as to play me a fool, Al-Haitham?” Azar interrupts, eyes narrowing. “Perhaps I should lay out the facts for you. Many eyewitnesses claim you went willingly on the ship with the Flame Mane and the blonde traveler, and many more heard the Flame Mane and the traveler talk of Aaru Village with its mad scholars. Thus, the first place the three of you went to was most certainly Aaru Village

“In Aaru Village, you likely ran into the truant General Mahamatra Cyno, which I am almost certain is on that ship you claim you took over. A person who you conveniently seemed to have forgotten to mention when you recounted what happened these last two weeks.

“Since then, the group of you have been responsible for almost half a dozen matra ship sinkings and counting, and the escape of Lesser Lord Kusanali from the Sanctuary of Surasthana.”

Kaveh flinches. Azar’s eyes immediately zero in on him, and smiles.

“Ah, so I will be seeing an empty Sanctuary when I arrive on the island,” Azar muses. “I can’t imagine how Sumeru will react knowing their Ruler has run away from her responsibilities.”

“Nahida would never,” Kaveh snaps. A matra’s spear comes dangerously close to his throat. His mouth snaps shut.

“That may be so, but how much would you bet on the general public believing that, Kaveh?” Azar asks. “You were very lucky to escape arrest last week. This time around, I’m afraid things won’t be so kind in your favor.”

“Grand Sage Azar,” Al-Haitham starts, bringing Azar’s attention back to him. “Even if the things you say are true, shouldn’t it be obvious that I have since betrayed them? Why else would I bring Kaveh on board for you to arrest?”

“A bluff is the obvious answer, Al-Haitham,” Azar says. “If you would like a more thorough one as you seem to be lacking in smarts currently, then I will inform you the matra in charge of Kaveh’s arrest claimed Kaveh was kidnapped by a man fitting your stature.”

“And why would I rescue Kaveh?” Al-Haitham says. “We don’t know each other.”

Azar smiles.

“I wouldn’t be so quick to claim such falsehoods, Al-Haitham,” he mocks. “The Akasha has extensive information on a certain research project the two of you were a part of. What was the name of the thesis? ‘Decoding the Runes and Architectural Philosophy of the Ruins of King Deshret’s Civilization’?” Kaveh bites the inside of his cheek, hard.

“We are all citizens of Sumeru and scholars in our own right,” Azar continues. “The way your project fell through, I almost wonder if a lover’s quarrel could be blamed for its destruction.”

Al-Haitham visibly stiffens and Azar is quick to notice.

“Have I struck a nerve?” he muses.

“Kaveh and I haven’t talked to each other since the project,” Al-Haitham insists, his voice almost strained. “We may as well not know each other anymore.”

“Be that as it may,” Azar says, “you are still highly suspect. Guards.” The matra soldiers stand at attention. “Take them away. I’ll let the other ships know to take care of the Flame Mane’s ship.”

“No!” Al-Haitham starts forward, struggling against the matra holding him back. Kaveh hears the soldier behind him grunt. He ignores the scuffle, eyes narrowing on Azar’s Akasha.

“For a traitor to the crew, you seem quite agitated, Al-Haitham,” Azar says. “I suppose even a person like you has his limits.”

“Please,” Al-Haitham pleads. “Please. I admit it. I was lying.”

Kaveh sees the grassy field and adhigama trees from his dreams. He feels the sun’s warmth shining on him. His brows pinch.

Lesser Lord Kusanali has escaped. Head to the Sanctuary of Surasthana and detain her.

“Let them go,” Al-Haitham begs.

“Take them to the prison chamber,” Azar orders.

“Grand Sage, please,” Al-Haitham continues, desperation bleeding into his voice. Another matra has to come and restrain him, pushing him towards the door. “Please.”

Both of them are forced out of the room, the door shutting closed with a slam. The last thing Kaveh sees before they’re taken below deck are the other matra ships sailing past Dehya’s ship.

“Azar has truly lost his touch,” Kaveh mutters. “I can’t believe his arrogance was so all-encompassing, he didn’t realize all of that was a distraction.”

Al-Haitham nods. He moves over to Kaveh, carefully untying his binds.

“Were you able to disrupt his message?” he murmurs.

“Of course,” Kaveh assures. “Only thing left to do now is wait.”

He feels the ropes fall away and moves his hands in front of him, gently rubbing the raw skin. Al-Haitham steps back, lowering himself to the other side of the room.

Kaveh sits down too. He leans his head back against the wall and breathes. It feels like his first full breath in days and he can’t help but smile at that—the relief crashing over him like a tidal wave, pulling him into an almost euphoric state.

They’re done. Cyno has ample opportunity to apprehend Azar now with all the matra ships gone, and Dehya and Rahman could easily handle the ships heading toward them and the Sanctuary. Nahida can finally take her rightful place now.

Things can return to as they were before.

Kaveh sniffs, shoulders drooping down. He lowers his head, seeing Al-Haitham with his eyes closed and head tilted back, and feels his smile fall.

Ah. Right.

With everything coming to a close, there’s no reason for Kaveh and Al-Haitham to work together anymore. Once they’re back in Port Ormos, Al-Haitham can return to his nine-to-five job as a scribe and Kaveh can return to his life as a famous, overworked architect.

He clasps his hands together and squeezes, tight.

Is that what he wanted?

Working with Al-Haitham for the last half-week hadn’t been… awful. It was nice. It reminded Kaveh of why he had stayed friends with Al-Haitham in the first place. It reminded Kaveh of the excitement the other could bring out of him—the simple sureness that came with having someone who understood him because he was nothing like him, who slotted so imperfectly perfect with him.

And… maybe he did miss that. Maybe he did miss Al-Haitham.

Was that enough to want Al-Haitham back in his life? An inevitably annoying fixture who questioned every part of him and his philosophies? An egoist who would never understand why Kaveh is the way he is, in the same way Kaveh would never understand why he is the way he is?

A… person who would ground him to reality, in the same way Kaveh would let him dream? Someone who still cared for him enough to be brutally, irrevocably honest with him even after all these years—who cared more for him than he cared about keeping him?

Because that was the most of it, wasn’t it?

Find out what his combination of old and new is.

Al-Haitham hadn’t changed, not really—not fundamentally. For all the years that have slipped by them, he is still the same person who bared all of Kaveh’s insecurities in broad daylight; who grew so close to him, he ran away.

Though he may not be an Al-Haitham Kaveh remembers, he is an Al-Haitham Kaveh knows.

Honesty is to a relationship what a well-rested mind is to a scholar, and Kaveh slept surprisingly well last night.

“Al-Haitham?”

Al-Haitham opens his eyes and turns his head, meeting Kaveh’s stare.

“What is it?”

Kaveh takes a breath, steadying himself.

“I’m sorry,” he says, so very quietly.

Al-Haitham raises a brow.

“What for?” he asks.

“For what I said to you.”

“You already apologized a few nights back if this is about our arguments during the beginning of the week,” Al-Haitham says. “And if this is about our latest argument concerning your lack of care for your well-being, you’ve already apologized for that one as well—”

“Not… not any of those arguments,” Kaveh interrupts, trailing off. “For the one that… made our project fall apart.”

Al-Haitham seems to stiffen the slightest bit. Kaveh remembers him having the same reaction back when they were speaking with Azar.

It was perhaps the only genuine reaction Al-Haitham had in that room.

“If this is about what Azar said,” Al-Haitham starts, “we both know what truly happened. There is no need to apologize for what is essentially water under the bridge now.”

“This isn’t about what Azar said,” Kaveh says. He fiddles with his fingers, twisting and squeezing them. “I’m sorry for running away that day because I couldn’t handle the truth you were telling me. I’m sorry for shutting you out of my life. I’m sorry for never coming back to explain myself and hurting you in the process… so much so that you blacked your name out from our thesis.”

He exhales, long and slow and shaky, but keeps his voice crystal clear.

“When you said those words back then—about my altruism and my guilt—I was hurt, yeah, but I was also scared,” Kaveh says. “I felt like I was being forced under a spotlight, forced to look at my deepest insecurities and issues—things that I was ignoring because it was easier to ignore. It hurt less to ignore than to face my self at the time, all of me.

“You forced me to stare at myself. You knew me so well and you had no issues telling it straight to my face. And I couldn’t handle that level of vulnerability, not with you when we were arguing so much over the direction of the stupid project. So I did the only thing I could to protect myself. I convinced myself that you were in the wrong, that you were an awful person for doing that to me, that…” Kaveh stops. He bites the inside of his cheek. “That everything you said was wrong.”

Al-Haitham doesn’t respond. Kaveh grips his hands tighter.

“Years ago, you told me my altruism was a byproduct of the guilt I felt for destroying my family when my father died,” he says, his breathing shallow. He forces himself to take deep, gulping breaths, to say what he’s known for years. “And you were right,” he pauses. “You were completely right.”

He stares straight at Al-Haitham, not once breaking gazes despite how much he wants to. The other stares back, a soft sort of glow in his two-toned eyes, something shimmering in them that he hasn’t seen—ever.

And then—

“It doesn’t matter,” Al-Haitham says, gently.

Kaveh gapes.

“It doesn’t matter?” he repeats. “You have to realize what that means coming from you. You and your rationality, your egoism, your logic.”

“I am aware, and I still stand by my word,” Al-Haitham says. “It doesn’t matter because, in the end, you were right too.”

“How?”

“Perhaps, if I had cared more to help you over proving some arbitrary truth,” Al-Haitham murmurs, “I wouldn’t have lost you in the process.”

Kaveh blinks. He holds his breath, waiting like he’s at a fork in the road or the precipice of a cliff—debating like he’s stuck between a rock and a hard place.

Only, the rock is himself, and the hard place is with Al-Haitham.

“Archons,” Kaveh breathes. “You never stopped.”

“Of course not,” Al-Haitham says—like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Like Kaveh should know already.

“You stubborn bull,” Kaveh says, walking forward. “Oh my gods.”

“I tried to find you after I heard about the Palace and your debt,” Al-Haitham admits, watching him like a hawk. “But it was like you had disappeared from Sumeru.”

“I moved to Port Ormos right after. Rent was cheaper there and I had connections.” Kaveh explains. “Oh my gods.”

“If I had found you,” Al-Haitham continues, “I would have offered to let you move in with me.”

“Really?” Kaveh asks. He stops, barely a foot of space between them.

“You would’ve had to pay rent.”

He snorts.

“Of course I would.”

“Knowing you, you would’ve wanted to do all the household chores.”

“Sounds like you just wanted a housewife.”

“That’s fine. I don’t mind being the breadwinner,” Al-Haitham says, staring straight at him. “You and I both know your job security is as reliable as the leyline energy you collected.”

Kaveh burns.

“Fuck you.”

His hand shoots out. He grabs Al-Haitham’s skin-tight shirt and pulls. Al-Haitham jerks forward and Kaveh rushes to meet him in the middle, crashing into the kiss, mess and all. He moves his hand, gently framing Al-Haitham’s face, keeping him near.

Al-Haitham’s lips quirk up. His arm cinches around Kaveh’s waist, snug like it belongs there. Kaveh grips his shirt tighter, pressing closer.

When they finally break for air, he lets his hand travel to his nape, keeping the two of them close. Their breaths mingle in the small space between, warm and heavy, and Kaveh has never felt so safe.

“Is the offer still open?” he whispers, scanning Al-Haitham’s face, gaze lingering on his lips, and then his pretty two-toned eyes.

Al-Haitham raises a brow and huffs lightly.

“The offer has always been open.”

An hour later, while the two of them are in the midst of a long-overdue makeout session, someone clears their throat.

Kaveh shrieks, shoving Al-Haitham away. Al-Haitham grunts.

At the door is Cyno, expression blank as he glances between Al-Haitham and Kaveh.

For a long moment, none of them speak.

"Azar has been arrested," Cyno reports monotonously. "Glad you two figured things out. Happy for you. Congratulations."

He turns on his heels and shuts the door behind him. The slam rings in the still air.

“Oh my gods,” Kaveh groans, burying his face in his hands.

Al-Haitham snorts and pulls him back in.

“Was that the last box?”

“I think so.”

“Finally.”

Kaveh rolls his eyes and stands, wiping the sweat off his brows. He looks around, letting his eyes scan the space, and makes a face.

He turns to Al-Haitham.

“Let me redecorate this house.”

Al-Haitham glances at him and raises a brow.

“Why?”

“It’s disgustingly bland,” Kaveh says. “You barely have any furniture other than bookshelves.”

“It has worked just fine for the last ten years.”

“And it’ll work even better once I’m through with it,” he says, grabbing one of his boxes. “Where should I put my stuff?”

Al-Haitham points to the hallway to their right.

“In the room all the way down.”

Kaveh nods and makes his way down.

“Remember, we have Nahida’s coronation dinner to attend tonight,” Al-Haitham calls. “Don’t focus too much on unpacking and find something suitable to wear.”

Kaveh rolls his eyes.

“I remember,” he calls back. “You know I wouldn’t miss that for the world.”

“Had to make sure,” Al-Haitham responds. “Just in case your memory has started to fade with your age, senior.”

Kaveh throws Al-Haitham a glare behind him.

“Don’t be rude.”

Al-Haitham smirks.

He opens the door and sets his box in the corner, glancing around the room. To his right sits a king-sized bed with thick blankets on top and two pillows leaning against the headboard. Bookshelves line all four walls—par for the course with Al-Haitham—all of them filled to the brim with books. A walk-in closet stands to his left, the door closed.

Right across from the bed, underneath the window, is a small desk with a lamp on top and a pristine, emerald-green book.

Kaveh steps towards the desk, hands brushing gently against the cover.

He turns and leaves the room, closing the door gently behind him. Al-Haitham is sitting on the only sofa in the living room when he enters again, a book already open on his lap.

He forgoes the rest of his boxes and strides toward the other. He stops directly in front of him.

“Hey.”

Al-Haitham looks up, raising his gaze to meet his.

Kaveh smiles, and says, “I love you.”

Al-Haitham blinks up at him. Carefully, he sets his book aside and stands, hands rising to cup Kaveh’s face.

Kaveh feels the soft press of lips against his.

“I love you too.”